The Beast Within
by Squeewockle
Summary: AU, set at the end of S4. The effects of the spell used by the Scoobs has an unintended result...Buffy and Faith Pairing. Eventually.
1. Chapter 1

Buffy felt like she'd been hit by a truck and shot up with drugs at the same time.

In all fairness, it wasn't too far off the truth. The big bad she'd fought happened to be the metaphorical truck, the channelling of unstable magic the metaphorical high.

Every bone, muscle and nerve ending hurt. Sharp flares of pain assaulted her skull. She recalled the fight between her and Adam a few moments before. The supernatural strength she relied on to fight the forces of evil did little more than hit like a wet towel against his tough frame.

That all changed when her friends completed the spell halfway across the Initiative compound, injecting a surge of mystical power in her muscles. It came in handy when kicking the living crap out of a man-made cyborg/demon/thing that could probably stand in front of a freight train and come out the encounter intact. Adam viewed the matter of life and death as a game, and decided to let Buffy run around because she amused him so much, killing his minions here and there.

His underestimation turned out to be rather fatal when she yanked out his uranium battery heart. The last of the magic trickled out, leaving her body relatively pain-free. She levered herself upright, scraping hands against moss and stone. _Hang on. Moss? Stone? Wha-?_

Something wasn't right.

She was pretty sure one minute ago her face was stuck to a linoleum floor.

Now she sat in a cemetery, no longer sharing a room with Adam's corpse. In fact, she no longer shared the same battleground as her friends. Some definite un-sharing was going on. Panic seized her when she thought of Riley and the gang, probably still stuck fighting demons.

Buffy scrambled to her feet. They needed to be found - the faster, the better. She made about three steps before tripping over a knotted piece of grass. Her limbs flailed out and ended up grabbing the nearest headstone as a last ditch attempt to remain vertical. The granite crumbled under her grip. She staggered away from the desecrated grave, groggy and unfocused.

Something hissed. _**You done yet being stupid?**_

Buffy peered around, seeking the source of the noise.

_**Don't worry about me. Worry about them, **_the voice insisted.

A small tug at her consciousness allowed her to spot a group of demons amongst the shadowed headstones. Buffy sobered up fast, running a tongue nervously over her teeth as she counted.

Six of them. Not exactly good odds in open space. A predatory growl rumbled in the back of her throat as they neared. Slayer instincts stirred in prospect of a fight. She was built for destroying creatures like them. Lots of them in the same place however generally resulted in her running in the opposite direction; but if they didn't feel threatened, then they wouldn't go for the kill. They'd want to toy with her instead - draw out the torture.

She grinned inwardly when they fanned out around her. Sometimes it paid to be small, blonde, and female. No one ever took small dumb blondes seriously.

"Hiya, guys!" Buffy fluttered her eyelashes in a vapid way. "Should be careful walking through cemeteries. You never know who you're gonna meet."

Two of the group started laughing.

"Ain't that right, princess," a vampire smirked. Bumps and ridges stretched out his face, twisting it into a hellish countenance. His black hair stuck out in an absurd looking quiff. The other two vampires morphed as well, ghoulish smiles in place.

"Is there something wrong with your faces?" Buffy pretended to look concerned. "I mean you boys all suddenly got all lumpy. Should I call a medic?"

"I'm a vamp. A creature of the night," Absurd Quiff replied. "You're a snack." He licked his lips. The others tightened the circle.

"A vamp? But they don't exist, right?" Buffy edged a hand downwards to rest on her hip.

"Hello? Pointy teeth?" He pointed to the row of sharp teeth lodged in his mouth. "Can you not see these little beauties?"

Buffy shrugged. "You could do anything with plastic surgery these days."

A thin, wiry demon waved his sword. "Seriously. The amount of suppression these Sunnydale chicks do. Let's just chop her up already,"

A bug-eyed vampire evaporated into dust before he knew what hit him. Buffy twirled a stake and smiled, tilting her head to the side as she observed the utter shock of her would-be murderers. A blue-haired demon howled in rage and lunged at her. She high-kicked him into the air as the others closed the distance. The airborne demon wailed, before crunching head first into a gravestone. His head lolled at a disjointed angle, blank eyes facing the heavens. Buffy dodged and weaved with lightning speed out of the thong of remaining demons.

"The fuck?" The wiry demon held his sword out, arm trembling. "What the hell are you?"

"You don't know? Must be some serious repression you're doing there," Buffy deadpanned. He growled in response, thrusting out with the thin blade. She grabbed it, pulled him forward and delivered a spinning kick that sent him sprawling onto the grass in one fluid motion. She stamped on his hand, shattering the cartilage before launching herself into the next demon.

They knew what she was, now.

Lust for the battle overtook her mind. Her limbs blurred into a windmill of blocks, parries, and strikes.

Her stake scratched Absurd Quiff, scouring a deep red line on his chest. She aimed again for his heart, but saw something swing towards her from the left. She ducked just in time to avoid a club to her skull, giving Absurd Quiff the opportunity to avoid the dusting. She stabbed him through the groin instead. He screeched in agony and dropped to his knees. She turned to grab the wrist of the demon wielding the club.

"Hey! Watch the hair!" She brutally kicked him.

The disembodied voice chose that moment to intercede with:_** You know, if I had teeth, they'd be on edge from your tasteless puns.**_

Buffy flinched, faltered and lost her stride. A sword pierced into her shoulder from behind. She gasped and clenched her jaw as it slid back out. With a berserk scream she flailed into her opponents, her vision hazing red.

Occasionally, flashes of lucidity came to her. A demon's limb, torn from its socket. A vampire's shout becoming dust in the wind. A sword in her hands, slashing out at anything that moved with reckless wrath. Mostly it felt like something else was piloting her, causing her limbs to act and react.

When she came to, she realised the fight was over, on account of everything being dead, or deader.

The Slayer in her itched for more. Blood dripped off the sword she wielded. She let the weapon clatter to the ground. Grey matter dribbled onto her boots. The stale air of the graveyard caressed her face. Branches rustled in the darkness.

"Wow. That was easier than expected." Her hand curled around to feel the shoulder wound. She groped around the exposed flesh. It didn't feel deep, but it stung. Her fingers came away sticky with blood.

_**Not a bad fight, **_the sibilant voice commented._** Sloppy with the shoulder though, very sloppy. Should have seen that coming.**_

"You distracted me," Buffy said tentatively, not sure what she responded to. She gnawed on her lip. _Where's the voice coming from?_

_**From your head, duh.**_

"What?" Buffy touched her head as though she was likely to find something stuck on it. There were no weird growths or gooey things. She kept checking.

_**That's not gonna work, sorry. I'm in your head. Literally.**__**In your head with the brain.**_

"Oh my god. What are you doing in there?" Buffy started pacing frantically. "Who or what are you?"

_**Hey, hey, calm down! There's no need to panic. I'm a part of you. A good part.**_

On the verge of completely and utterly freaking out, Buffy hesitated. "What?"

_**It's a little complicated.**_

Buffy moved away from the corpses scattered on the ground. The vampires left nothing more than dust, but demons didn't disappear when they died. It made for some awkwardness at times, and for a little body dragging. Right now she didn't feel like lugging corpses.

"Complicated," Buffy drawled, calculating whether it was appropriate to freak out or not. She didn't feel any sense of ominous threat or impending doom to her being. The voice contained no malice, no hidden edge or agenda to its tone. If anything, it sounded like a petulant teenager. And if it was in her head, she probably couldn't attack it.

On second thought, that provided a pretty good reason to panic.

_**I've been with you, ever since you were called to your power.**_

The statement surprised Buffy. "You have?"

_**Yes.**_

"Then how come I've never heard you talk?"

_**Like I said, it's complicated. **_It paused briefly._** Is there any chance you could... think your replies rather than talk them? When you speak out loud, it kinda echoes. **_

Buffy blinked, thrown by the random suggestion. Alarm for her own Personal Space began to encroach all the other emotions flying helter-skelter. _If it can hear the thoughts in my head, what else can it see in there? _

She wished fervently Giles or Willow were around. Someone needed to explain what was going on, and tell her she wasn't crazy for hearing voices in her head.

_**If it makes you feel any better, I don't know what the hell is going on either, **_the voice assured her.

Buffy hesitated underneath the black cemetery gates._ Really? You're telling me you're just as confused as I am?_

_**Yeah. Sort of. I know what I am. I know I can talk to you. I'm just not sure what triggered the whole talking thing.**_

_That doesn't really help._

_**Like I said. Complicated.**_

Buffy ignored the tone._ So let me get this straight, because if I don't get it straight my brain will explode. What exactly are you?_

_**Technically? I suppose I'm the voice of your Slayer.**_

_Technically? You sound just like me, though._

_**I'm in your subconscious. That's what I've got to work with. You and the... words. And the wording. Of the words.**_

"Oh." Buffy didn't know what to say to that.

_**You've got a nice brain, if that makes you feel any better.**_

_Right. Okay. Slightly disturbing. _Buffy glanced around, trying to identify where she was. Was this the cemetery with the Initiative hidden entrance? The dark made it difficult to see. She needed to find her friends and catch up to the battle. If it still waged.

A sudden onslaught of nausea swamped her.

_**Uh oh,**_ the voice muttered.

_What?_

_**Look.**_ An insistent tug at her head made Buffy roll her eyes in the desired direction. At first she couldn't find anything out of place with the scene.

Graveyards. Dead people underneath the graves. The usual things you expected in a place for burying the not-living.

The tug came again, more gentle. She looked down at a headstone in the third row next to the footpath.

A fresh wave of nausea piled up. She felt like a ridiculous cartoon animal about to be flattened by a giant rolling ball. In a zombie-like trance she walked to the gravestone. Her main motor functions broke down, abandoning her for morbid fascination.

Buffy crouched down, her finger lightly touching the words carved out on the worn surface. The grave looked to be at least a couple of years old. She read the words on them, several times over.

**BUFFY ANNE SUMMERS. 1981-1997,**

**Beloved Daughter and Friend.**

**Sadly Missed.**

"The hell," Buffy said.


	2. Chapter 2

No matter how hard Buffy stared at the gravestone, the writing refused to go away. The words insisted on bitch-slapping her in the face.

_**No Toto, we are definitely not in Kansas anymore.**_

Buffy didn't bother to respond. She mechanically ran her finger over the smooth granite plaque bearing her name and apparent date of death; despite the fact she felt very much alive and really, really not dead.

Her initial plan to locate her friends shrivelled up. She had a slightly more worrying problem sitting in front of her - in the form of a slab of weathered marble.

A ghost of a feeling crept inside Buffy. It was a sensation of someone walking over her grave. She shivered.

Maybe it was just cold air.

_Got any useful explanations? _Buffy demanded._ I'm kinda freaking out here._

_**Hang on, **_came the reply.

Buffy sucked in deep, agitated breaths, her grasp on calm slipping fast._ Hurry up._

_**Don't you dare start hyperventilating on me. It's not like you haven't died before.**_

A long, awkward pause followed the Inner Slayer's statement.

_**Maybe that was a bit harsh**_, it admitted.__

_Glad you agree._

_**Yeah, sorry. Anyway, best guess is that we're Vamp Willow.**_

_Huh? What?_

_**Vamp Willow.**_

Buffy backed away from her gravestone and settled down on a wooden bench. She didn't think she'd do so well with activities involving her legs. They tottered about as though controlled by strings. All her nerve endings were being very unsupportive at the moment.

Fighting vampires, dealing with possessed eggs, magical beer, saving the world; she tackled these things on a regular basis.

The shock at seeing her own grave entered a new level of freakiness. The whole problem compounded itself by the fact she could_ feel_ a body in the dirt, nestled in the wooden confines of a coffin. Dead things gave an almost unnoticeable pull since only the husk of who they were remained. They were an imprint, frozen in the universe like a snapshot from a camera. With a little concentration, Buffy could touch them at the edge of her consciousness.

She knew a body lay under the grave. Her body.

The Inner Slayer sighed._** Remember what I said about the not-hyperventilating?**_

Buffy stopped chewing the inside of her cheek. _Kinda hard not to._ She took deep, forced breaths, tying to maintain a pretence of unruffled steel._ So. Will vamp. Splainy?_

_**Remember the way vamp Willow ended up in our dimension? Figure we're experiencing the same thing, in reverse.**_

_Maybe, _Buffy reflected. She recalled the image of her best friend, Willow, decked out in leather. Quite an interesting experience.

She tasted the idea the Inner Slayer presented her with before cradling her head in her hands and grimacing at the tang of pain zapping her shoulder. Drying streaks of blood stained the left side of her blue denim jacket.

_Or maybe not. I'm just going crazy. I'm having conversations with myself, that's crazy enough._

_**Denial, **_the Inner Slayer sang._** Like the river.**_

_What?_ Buffy stopped anxiously running her nails through her hair. _What is that even supposed to mean?_

_**Dunno. Thought it sounded good.**_

Buffy huffed annoyance. _I'm not in denial._

A small alarm went off in Buffy's head. She instinctively reached out with her Slayer senses to locate the threat. She fumbled, a little rusty at first. She never exactly topped the Slayer class for detecting vampires. Usually she went fashion police on them. The more carbon dated an outfit looked, the more likely they were in fact, a bloodsucking fiend. It worked most of the time.

Scents crashed into her nose like a truck: dirt, decay, rancid blood. All of them familiar acrid tangs of the undead. Panic slithered as more and more corpse-like odours soured the atmosphere. Seven, eight, nine -

She stopped counting.

_**They can smell your wound.**_

Buffy sighed, glum. _How many are there? It's like they're crawling out of the woodwork or something._

Three vampires rapidly closed in from the south, blurs under the moonless night. Buffy's Slayer senses went haywire. She couldn't see the others, but they were close.

She bolted from the bench like a hare, running as fast as she possibly could. Wind slapped into her face, gouged cold lines across her skin, and whistled with vindictive malice into her open wound. Her breath became faster and hissing. She clamped a hand over the injury to plug it, making her gait more lopsided. Running with an injury tended to suck. Standing in the open for a bunch of vampires eager to suck her neck sucked even more. Vampires meant suckfests in general.

Which made sense, given said obvious implications of being one.

Adrenaline charged her muscles as she swerved down the abandoned streets. She glanced furtively to the shadows, survival instincts concerned with what hid amongst them. In her world, many things went bump in the night. It came free with living on a Hellmouth.

She picked corners at random, pacing down the asphalt with rugged determination. She had no idea where she was. Nothing looked familiar. She only ran. At least eleven vampires gave chase now, and she scented even more closing the net around her. She was the fly in a web of vicious spiders. Her pulse beat erratically. Her breath wheezed in anger. A low growl rumbled in the back of her throat. The feral, predatory part of her wanted to turn and face them.

Already her brain mapped and catalogued the surroundings, selecting places to hide, weapons to utilise, odds of victory. It drew out a silent combat plan designed to take down as many enemies as possible with the least risk to self. She could trick them. Smear blood on the walls. Hide in the shadows, wraith-like and silent in expectation. Try and take them all down, one by one.

Buffy gritted her teeth, pushing back the impulses. Ever since she'd landed in the cemetery, her Slayer urges came on way stronger than usual. The urges frisked like a trapped animal, waiting to be released. Back at the cemetery she'd decimated the demons, riding on the innate thrill and euphoria of the fight.

Now it frightened her.

Her shoes consistently thudded the pavement, tendons throbbing in protest. She bit hard enough into her lip to draw blood.

Normally she could run for ages if necessary. However, the fact she'd gone from pounding in Adam's face to pounding in six other demon's faces, combined with a stab wound that hurt like a bitch, along with other things that hurt like a bitch... it was small wonder her limbs had difficulty keeping up.

She decided she really could do with a break from the whole Slayer gig; preferably beginning from now. The Powers That Be didn't seem content to let her rest. Her stamina deteriorated into dangerously low levels. The vampires weren't getting any further away. Her breaths became ragged gasps. Beads of sweat slid from her forehead. Her feet dragged and ached. She recognised the next area she pounded into with a tiny flutter of hope in her breast.

_**You're heading to Giles' house? **_

Buffy slipped down an alleyway, strands of hair flapping damply from sweat.

_Now we're in the neighbourhood? Yeah._

_**Remember about the alternate dimension stuff? We don't know what's the what. Don't know if Giles is even around.**_

Buffy scowled. She hadn't even considered that._ Hoping you're totally wrong._

_**Honestly? Let's hope I'm right. This many demons isn't a good sign.**_

A vampire charged her from the other end of the narrow alley. Without missing a beat she threw her stake. He took the stake with him as he disintegrated into dust, surprise burnt into the brief outline of his features. Her body lost balance as she twisted sharply around the corner, causing her to slip and fall. The impact dazed her. She saw a few more vampires enter the dark alleyway out of the corner of her eye, faces distorted in triumph. Their prey lay ripe for the picking. They could smell the exhaustion. They could smell the blood.

Bile rose up in her throat.

_**Try not to die here. It would be terribly inconvenient.**_

Buffy agreed with the voice wholeheartedly. She reached for another stake and with a determined grunt, flipped back onto her feet. "Oh yeah," she squeaked. "That hurt." She growled in irritation when detecting more vampires rushing into the fray, making her feel like a unwrapped sweet placed in the middle of an ant nest. She gripped her stake hard. "I thought I did a way better job with pest control than this. Guess I was wrong."

A new voice cut suddenly into the darkness. "Close your eyes!"

A small grey ball bounced in front of her. Buffy stared at it. "Huh?"

The grey ball exploded. Bright, blinding light seared her eyeballs, converting her vision to a multicolour blur of spots. She instantly flinched, palms slamming into her face. The colours shifted into blackness. Inhuman shrieks and screams grated her ears. The heavy drag and pull in the atmosphere from the presence of so many vampires lifted, drifting away to infect the air with the faint musk of ash.

Her Slayer senses tentatively touched around, seeking any more threats. A dull absence greeted her. Apparently, the bright dazzling flare from the ball contained the same potency as sunlight.

Impressive.

She did, however, catch the presence of a human. She'd barely even realised it was there with all the vampires congregating down on her. A scent of wool, car leather and mint came to her. The scent draped around as the human tentatively touched her. The human made soothing noises. Buffy lowered her hands, panicking when she still couldn't see, vision tainted by impenetrable blackness.

"I told you to close your eyes, dear." The voice was female and very, very British, rapping out in brisk contralto. "You'll have to come with me. It's not safe... as I'm sure you found out for yourself."

"What... what just happened?"

"Sun bomb. I always have a couple of the blighters for emergencies. Your vision will be fine after a few minutes. If you'll just hold onto me - that's it, well done dear - lets get you out. You're certainly looking a bit worse for wear." Fingertips gently traced around Buffy's sore. The woman clucked her tongue. "That's a nasty little wound. How long ago did this happen?"

"Uh, maybe half an hour ago? Not exactly tracking time," Buffy replied, puzzled by the woman's overbearing helpfulness.

The fingers squeezed briefly. "Really now?"

_**Be careful!**_

Alarm bells played up. "I uh, heal fast?"

Sun bombs were not something used in the Sunnydale Buffy knew. She decided to tread with caution.

"Uh huh." The woman didn't sound very convinced. "You'd better come with me, dear. That wound's not going to fix itself."

Buffy's vision crept back bit by bit. She progressed from empty, inky blackness to discerning shapes and outlines. One of a car loomed in view. The woman guiding her held out a key and pressed it. The car unlocked with a little click.

"Steering wheel on the right? Seriously?" Buffy groaned.

The woman chuckled. "I'll take that to mean your sight is coming back with a vengeance. I'm just going to open the passenger seat door now. Let's get you somewhere safer."

"What's your name?" Buffy asked as she settled down on the seat, still unsure what to make of the situation. The chamois-car leather smell was now stronger, which made sense, given they were in the woman's vehicle. Buffy wasn't convinced that being led to a car of a stranger was a good idea, even if said stranger had saved her from an army of vampires. But she didn't resist. Something about the voice reminded her of Giles.

Probably the British thing.

"Oh! Silly me." The woman mimed slapping herself. "I've yet to introduce myself. Voirrey Saunders, at your service. May I ask for yours?"

"Buffy Summers," Buffy said.

The Inner Slayer mentally facepalmed itself._** Oh my god.**_

_What?_

_**You have the name of a dead person. Well done!**_

The blonde Slayer flushed, cursing her slip up.

Voirrey inhaled sharply as she strapped Buffy securely into the upholstered seat. "Is that so?" she murmured. "Unusual name."

"Uh, yeah. Isn't it? I think my mother secretly hated me," Buffy babbled, nervous. "What were you doing all the way out here, anyway?"

Outlines and silhouettes regained back their various levels of shadow and grey hues under the night. Buffy finally found herself able to get a good look at Voirrey. Wrinkles pursed up around the older woman's lips and brow. Her coppery eyes examined Buffy in interest before she turned the key in the ignition. The car sputtered into life, groaning and creaking in protest.

A thought occurred to Buffy. "Actually. How did you find me when I was being chased by vamps?"

The car accelerated into a smooth thirty mile gait. "I was in the neighbourhood, and saw you in trouble. Just as well, eh?" Voirrey said blithely.

Buffy squinted at the woman's LED radio display. "At three thirty in the morning? Pretty nice of you."

Voirrey's knuckles tensed and whitened on the steering wheel, obviously realising the mistake. Buffy raised an eyebrow, taking time out to absorb the appearance of her new companion. The amber bob cut seemed oddly stylish, short but neat, refining the thin frame of her face. She donned sophisticated clothing, the sort worn to a high-class restaurant. She obviously liked the colour blue. Her face housed lines used to smiling.

_Council?_ Buffy pondered, tracing the woman's various items of jewellery. _She looks rich._

_**Possibly. Poke at her a little more. She probably doesn't intend to harm us. With the whole rescuing and all.**_

"Hey, I know you helped out," Buffy continued, taking advantage of the silence, "And that's great, so um, thanks. Kinda finding it hard to believe you just _happened_ to be cruising through here, though. So if you'll like to tell me what's going on, please do. If you're not kidnapping me." Buffy panicked. "You're not kidnapping me right?"

"Are you a Slayer?" Voirrey blurted, her knuckles still bone tight.

Buffy considered. "Yes."

The older woman locked eyes. "And your name is really Buffy Summers? Buffy Anne Summers?"

"Yes," Buffy replied, a sinking feeling in her stomach.

"Hmm."

Buffy waited. Voirrey didn't follow up. "Hmm?"

A deep set wrinkle became more prominent on the left side of Voirrey's mouth. She regarded Buffy for a moment before speaking again. "Buffy Anne Summers," she announced, "I'll tell you why I'm here."

Buffy waited.

Voirrey eased the car through amber traffic lights. "I'm here because I received a phone call from LA earlier tonight. A lady called Cordelia Chase told me someone would be in trouble. Does that name ring a bell?"

Buffy nodded.

"Normally, I wouldn't be out alone like this, in such a dangerous area. But Cordelia emphasised the importance of saving the person in trouble, and with the rest of my team... preoccupied, I was the only one up to the task."

The car belched through a empty traffic junction. Voirrey rested one hand on her lap. "She was cryptic, saying you didn't come from here. There was I, thinking she meant maybe from another country…"

The sinking feeling in Buffy's stomach hit rock bottom, twitched and died. "This isn't happening." Buffy whispered. She looked at Voirrey, pleading. "Tell me it isn't."

"I'm afraid it is," Voirrey said, knowing what Buffy asked. "You're from another dimension. Or, depending on your point of view, you ended up in a different dimension. I say this quite affirmatively because Buffy Anne Summers died three years ago here fighting the Master; and now a Slayer called Buffy Anne Summers who appears absolutely identical to her is sitting in my car."

Buffy rubbed her cheeks with her palms, over and over. Voirrey not only had told her what she feared, she told it in the style of someone clutching a shotgun and firing both barrels at once. "What am I going to do then? I've... I've got friends. We - we were fighting, and I don't know if they're okay, I don't know if they're alive -"

"Don't worry about that now. There's no point."

"No!" Buffy's response was shrill. "Don't tell me to not worry about it. This is a big deal. I have to get back, don't you understand? I have to…"

"Well you can't," Voirrey said. "At least not now."

Buffy looked up. Sympathy and apology shaded Voirrey's eyes. Somehow it calmed her down. Voirrey turned back to focus on the road. "It's not in my plans to keep you prisoner."

_Well, that's a relief. Not. _"Could you help take me back?"

The older woman's mouth thinned. "We'll try. It won't be easy. But I promise you we'll try at least."

Buffy sighed. That was all she was getting and she knew it.__She wanted to push the woman further, but fought down the desire. If everything held true - if she really, one hundred percent, no doubts whatsoever was stuck in an alternate dimension - the last thing she needed was to risk estrangement with the one (and possibly only) person promising to help her.

Silence encompassed them for a few hundred yards.

"What happened in... your dimension?" Voirrey asked, a curious expression on her face. "You must have beaten the Master."

Another pause.

"Yeah," Buffy replied. "He killed me, but I got back up again."

Voirrey frowned. "You just... got back up?"

"Well. Xander revived me. I guess he um, didn't here?"

"He was too late. You were gone for good."

"Oh." Buffy imagined Xander running through the dirty tunnels, desperate to intercept her before she went against the Master. Xander coming across her body. Xander frantically trying to revive her but failing. Perhaps if he'd just been a few seconds faster...

Buffy touched her wound, flinching from the pain. "Poor Xander."

"They were all devastated," Voirrey said. "They're still around. Xander... Willow, Rupert. They'd love to see you."

"I'm sure." Buffy curved her lips a little upwards.

"There's something you should know as well. I'm the current Watcher to the Slayer. Your friends, or at least this Buffy's friends, all assist here. It's unexpected, but their contribution has been invaluable."

The statement left Buffy with another kernel of hope. Perhaps Voirrey wouldn't be the only one wanting to help. The thought of all of the scoobies running around as vampires had crossed her mind at one point. "Oh. They're all still hanging? Giles and the gang?"

"They are," Voirrey conceded. "I'm very grateful to them."

"Nice." So the gang were all alive. That only left the other big question. "And the Slayer? Who is she?"

Voirrey smiled. "Faith Lehane."


	3. Chapter 3

**The Bronze**

Faith scanned the crowd turnout at the Bronze with ill-concealed disappointment. She gulped down her shot glass and reclined comfortably on a leather brown settee, letting out an 'ah' of appreciation from the fiery liquid sliding down her throat. Colours gyrated all the way through the interior of the club. Trance music hummed from the speakers. She watched the barkeeper with mild interest as he served two male students.

A voice sliced through the noise like a snake's hiss. "Faaaaaaaith…"

Faith leant backwards to witness an upside down frown. Willow Rosenberg sat snug in a green pixie hood jumper, arms folded underneath her chest. Shocking red hair framed her pale face. "Am I going to have to tell Voirrey on you?"

Faith raised her empty shot glass in a mock salute. "Nah. Being good, promise. But can still check out dudes if I want, right?" She angled her head to include the figure seated next to Willow, "You agree, Blondie?"

"Gay and taken," Tara Maclay replied. "I d-don't really do the whole guy checking out stuff."

"Hey. Where's moral support when you need it?" Faith waved her glass indignantly.

"Faith, we _are_ moral support," Willow grinned impishly, "We're in the business of making you squeaky clean."

"Make someone squeak in a minute," Faith grumbled. She stared with longing after the barkeeper before letting out a wicked chuckle. "Guess I'll be alone on the snap, crackle and pop tonight."

Tara rolled her eyes. Willow was a little slower on the uptake. "What do you… Oh." Her face matched the colour of her hair. Faith cackled raucously and arched herself upright. She loved getting the startled and embarrassed reaction out of the two girls. Well, she used to get a rise from the both of them, once upon a time. Tara seemed more resilient these days.

"So, It's been a heavy night, and I got the munchies. Say we grab a couple more drinks then crash at my place?" Without waiting for a reply, Faith swaggered over to the barkeeper, her attitude drawing more than a few curious gazes.

"Uh, sure? We kinda usually do, anyway...?" Willow said, confused. She flapped her hand. "Oh, oh, Faith, get me lemonade, please!"

Faith grinned. "On it."

Whilst Faith ordered another round of drinks, the entrance doors banged open. Four people entered, giggling and swaying under heavy influence. Faith reached out with her senses, making sure the new arrivals were not out for blood.

Her Inner Slayer made a sound like a buzzer going off. _**Human. Keep it down tonight. Try to avoid physical stuff.**_

Faith's hand touched the flesh above her hip. _I'm fine. Five by five._

_**Oh? Your 'five by five' has taken a week to even start closing up. **_the Inner Slayer growled. _**Slayer healing ain't doing jack.**_

_That bull demon dude had a pretty big knife. Gonna hurt a bit, right?_

_**Demon barely even touched you. One little scratch and this is what happens? I'm telling you; that's some serious magical shit going on. Report it.**_

_No. _Faith's body tensed, teetering on edge. Her fists clenched into little balls. _We all got enough on our plates. This won't do any good._

_**Voirrey will skin you alive when she finds out you've been hiding this from her. Actually, the whole gang will skin you alive.**_

Faith winced. Yes, Voirrey and the gang would bear down on her like some kind of huge, unstoppable avalanche. She lifted her hand as discreetly as possible from her side. The bandages there stopped people from suspecting as long as she covered up the tell-tale skin. She needed to replace them regularly. The tiny wound seeped constantly, and if she left it too long, it would soak through to the outer layer of clothes as well.

A couple of teenage boys, hardly more than school kids, glanced furtively as she walked back with the drinks, taking care not to collide into anyone. A mix of expressions cocktailed their faces: apprehension, expectation, fear. Faith didn't like witnessing the fear, or smelling it permeating the atmosphere like sour grapes. On more than one occasion, Faith found herself needing to beat and stake the non-living shit out of trespassing vamps in the Bronze, often in full public view. No help for it, sometimes. The demon population couldn't find it within themselves to lie low. They were just damn impolite like that.

"Faith. Why are you just standing there? I'm getting all thirsty."

Tara bobbed her head in tandem with Willow. "Don't forget to sit back down as well, sweetie."

"Right. Sure." Faith mechanically dunked the drinks down, and turned towards her previous space of occupation. "Shame Xan-Man ain't here. Could get him to haul us drinks instead."

"Um, I think he's currently… indisposed… you know? To use Giles speak," Willow said.

"With Anya," Tara added helpfully.

"Tare-baby, that's kind of what I meant with the whole 'indisposed' thing."

Faith flopped in-between the two girls, causing them to squeal and giggle and attempt to push her off. "My digs, now." She sprawled her legs over Willow's lap, and fidgeted a bit until she found a comfortable nook on Tara's shoulder, placing her left elbow tight against her side to protect the injury. She bumped her fingers on the table before passing along the drinks to the newly christened settee girls.

"Don't mind me."

"I do mind," Willow squeaked, squinting her emerald eyes.

Faith attempted swatting away the expression. "Faster you drink, sooner you're rid of me."

Willow started drinking. "I'm so holding you to that, Missy."

Faith blew a kiss and laughed.

"Uh, Faith?"

"Yeah?" Faith switched her attention to Tara, taking in the slightly flushed expression.

"Feeling nice but slightly awkward, h-here." Willow and Faith followed Tara's stare, right down her curvy body to the source of the problem.

"Oh." Faith removed the offending elbow from where it pressed against the blonde's inner thigh.

"Tare!" Willow exclaimed. She slapped Faith's black denim jeans. "And you! Stop corrupting my girlfriend! I'll have you know a few months ago she was sweet, and shy, and innocent."

Faith smirked. "Doubt that. But shouldn't complain, Red. Bet Blondie can take you for a pretty good spin." She wriggled her eyebrows. Willow spluttered, coughing on her drink. Faith knew Willow hated her smirk. She suspected anyone in their right mind would. She let it widen like a cat, dimples on full display as her friend turned slowly purple from the combination of a clogged up windpipe and sheer embarrassment.

"Faithy," Tara murmured into Faith's ear, "Stop teasing my girlfriend. It's n-not good for business."

"Sure, sure." Faith dutifully thumped Willow on the back, trying not to gasp in the process as her side wound twanged. It served as a nasty reminder she really wasn't the 100% girl image she wanted others to believe.

They all looked up to her, though. All the Scoobs; Voirrey as well. Faith couldn't understand why, but she wasn't going to let go of a good thing whilst it lasted. Without the Slayer empowering her, without Voirrey rescuing her from her original life, Faith knew she'd be a nothing. Dirt beneath people's feet. Anything but a human being worthy of other's respect.

She only distantly paid attention to the banter between Tara and Willow as she finished off her lemonade. They occasionally included her, but non-committal "Mmms" worked a treat. Tara absently stroked her hair.

"You have a scary frown on you," Willow commented.

Faith blinked. "Huh? Oh, yeah, well, I'm a scary person." She mimed clawing, letting out what she considered ferocious growls. Willow batted the "claws" away, grinning.

"Awww, you're just a widdle pussy cat. So cute."

"Ha. Got you to mention pussy." Faith's expression brightened. Both Willow and Tara glanced at each other, then back to Faith.

"Is there something you should be telling us, missy? Like any secret lesbian tendencies lurking under that man-eating exterior? 'Cause if there is, I'll have to put a public ban on contact between you and my girlfriend for safety measures."

Tara's eyebrows scrunched up in contemplation. "Well, she is s-sort of like the poster girl for bisexuality…"

Faith leered, sinously running a hand down the curves of her body. "What can I say? This bod turns even straight girls gay."

Willow giggled like a naughty child. "Out with it then. Poster girl or strictly… you know…"

"Dickly?" Faith finished for her. She mulled over the question. "Well... I like driving stick. Haven't tried the other side of the fence like you two, but damn, you girls make it look fun. May have to give it a swing myself sometime."

Faith waited for the inferno. Willow didn't disappoint. "You! You… you've watched us?"

"Heard, mostly." Faith shrugged, her face the picture of innocence. Tara giggled.

"Yeah, you do get pretty loud, Will."

"I do not! I'm quiet! I'm, I'm all meek as a lamb! Witness me being meek." A sudden suspicion seized Willow. "Wait. Wait a second. You said mostly. Why did you say mostly?"

Faith let her grin stretch into a maddening smirk. "That'd be telling."

Willow appeared mortified. "Oh Goddess, you couldn't have…"

Tara only giggled harder.

**Faith's Home**

Faith's house lay in the good side of town, a fairly respectable establishment fully funded by the council, mostly at Voirrey's persistent urging. They converted the lower basement into a training area, so Faith had space to practise the lessons Voirrey began when they both still lived in Boston.

Until Voirrey first found and told Faith to her face about being a Potential, Faith knew she had less than an admirable past. Boston remained a bad place to be in, when you lived in the an apartment with a drunk mother and absent father.

She twisted the key in the front door lock and pushed it open. She left her boots on the pile stacked against the wall, and hung her jacket on a silver hook nailed into the back of the door.

Willow flicked a few switches, illuminating the kitchen and lounge in dim yellow lights. She began rummaging in the cupboard under the stairs to pull out two sleeping bags. Tara made it her official duty to fetch snacks from the kitchen. Faith picked up a small, eloquently written note strewn on the dining table, with a flower vase clamping it in place. The flowers were forget-me-nots.

_Faith,_

_I'll be staying over at Rupert's tonight. There's a matter of importance to be discussed, and it won't be something resolved with a quick phone call. I hope patrol wasn't too taxing - you've been appearing somewhat run-down in the past few days. Remember to get plenty of rest tonight, and try not to tease Willow and Tara too much._

_Love, Voirrey._

"Huh." Faith placed the note down, wondering what sort of business the letter hinted at.

"Got us some little snacky snacks here, courtesy of Tara!" Willow called out. "What did the paper say?"

"Um. Voirrey's over at Giles' place. Got the house to ourselves." Faith gave her a thumbs up. "So let's hog the sofas and watch crappy television."

Tara tossed over a packet of plain-salt chips. Faith ripped the packaging and devoured them like a starving animal. The three girls munched through the collected food with relish. Willow lay claim to the thick blue sleeping bag, and Tara to the green. Faith simply draped a thin blanket over herself and turned on the T.V. Willow peeked out from under her bag.

"How you doin', you know, on the sun bombs?"

Faith trained her drowsy eyes on the redhead. "Trying to save them for the real nasties, Red. Got a couple left. Think you two can work the mojo for some more?"

"It's tricky," Tara said, chewing a lip. She ran her hand down her blue sleeved arm in an lazy, absent motion. "They're n-not exactly easy to make, and it was a fluke we even succeeded in the r-recipe in the first place. W-we have enough supplies to probably make twenty more, but then I've no clue where we can get the ingredients after."

"The Magic Box may have some, but it's bang in the bad side of town," Willow mused. "Even with the ingredients though, it'll take quite a few days to make them and a lot of power. You need to make those bombs last."

"Sucks," Faith sighed, flopping on the armchair. "That we need to use them. Don't get me wrong, they're wicked cool, it's just…"

"I know," Willow nodded. "Lots of vamps just cravin' to get a good ole bite out of us. I still can't believe how long it's been since…" her voice trailed off.

Tara jerked her head sharply at Willow's sudden drop in tone. "Will?"

"Three years, huh?" Faith said, knowing. She flicked idly through channels on the television, the mute symbol displayed in the bottom corner of the screen. "Pretty long time. You were good friends."

"Yeah." Willow set her jaw in a stubborn line, abolishing the memories. "You'd think we would be able to seal the Hellmouth by now."

"Well, I-it is sealed?" Tara flinched at Willow's glower. "I-in a way."

"Tell me you didn't just say that."

Tara tucked herself in deeper into the sleeping bag, wriggling like a giant green caterpillar.

"S-sorry, Willow. I still don't know much."

"What do ya know, then?" Faith prompted the blonde.

Tara shrugged. "I know your friend died, and the M-Master rose. But Kendra - it w-was Kendra, yeah? That was the name of the next Slayer?"

Willow and Faith nodded confirmation. Willow filled in the blanks. "She came two weeks after my friend died. We were all hiding out at Giles' place, Kendra did her Slayer thing and stopped the Master, but the damage was already done."

"What was Kendra like?" Faith said, after a pause. "You got to meet up and work with her a couple of times. How was she?" She switched the T.V off and flung the remote on the floor. She'd already asked plenty about Buffy, but barely anything about her predecessor.

"Uh, Kendra?" Willow pursed her lips in thought. "Jamaican, had a funny accent. Not much of a social life. Her only possession was a stake she called 'Mr. Pointy.' Nice enough girl, but she lived way too short. Like Buffy." Willow stared at Faith with sharp intensity.

"Scared that's gonna be me as well?"

Willow's mouth twisted. "I hope not. But a Slayer's life. It's too short, you know?"

Tara looked sad. "I think Giles said the average e-expectancy was nineteen, or something?"

Faith snorted. "You spend your days and nights killing things that go bump, one's gonna bump right back at you. Just the way it is."

"I don't like it." Willow rapped her pale knuckles on the blue sleeping bag. "I'm looking into it. Ways to make your job easier, the killing easier. Just everything, really. Tara and I are searching for something to see if we could get more Slayers."

Tara sighed. "Nothing so far though. Since we don't even know the first thing about the Slayer. O-other than that you're it and the line jumps when the current one d-dies."

"More Slayers…" Faith tasted the idea, as though she'd never even considered it before. The truth was, she hadn't. "All that 'one girl in all the world', crap…"

"Well, we know about the Potentials." Willow fidgeted on the spot. "When a Slayer… stops being a Slayer, the next Potential is activated. If we could find a way to do that to all of them at once…" She clapped her hands together to emphasise the point. "No more problem."

"But we're sure if we're thinking this, people in the past must have as well," Tara finished.

"Here's hoping you geeks can."

Willow shook her head. "But, before even thinking about more Slayage, we need to find a different way to seal the Hellmouth."

"Right," Faith agreed. "'Cause corking it up with witches is pretty stupid."

"Yes, especially with the whole dying thing." Willow rubbed her eyes. "I just can't find anything to help, though. Absolutely nothing." She appeared distressed at her perceived failure. Tara massaged Willow's shoulders in a soothing motion. Faith pretended to hack and spit.

"Demons. Hate their guts, even when they're spilled on the floor."

"Ew?" Tara and Willow responded.

Faith grinned at them, changing subject. "Well. No use getting on the angst. We'll just continue to save the world and stuff. Me kicking ass, you big bad witches and your mojo kooking everything up…"

"Witchcraft," Willow corrected, pouting.

"Witch fu sounds way better."

"Us big bad witches need our beauty sleep," Tara announced, snuggling up to her girlfriend.

Faith beamed at the two of them. "I'll leave you two lovebirds to it then."

"Night Faith. Sleep tight." Willow yawned.

Faith scooped the blanket up awkwardly. "Will do."

She still wasn't completely used to the business of people who acted like they actually gave a toss about her. She left her friends to their cuddling, dragging the blanket behind as she advanced upstairs.

She brushed her teeth after dumping her clothes in the laundry basket. She checked the wound oozing through the bandages, spending time applying a new dressing before pulling on a nightdress and plummeting into bed.

She reached immediately for the Tylenol hidden under her pillow, cricking three tablets out and popping them into her mouth. She slugged down the glass of water tactfully placed on the side dresser, waiting for the effect to kick in. Finally, she drifted off into dreamless sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

The smell of food drifted right into Buffy's nostrils. Her eyes fluttered open. She remained still, not fully awake enough to do anything else.

_**Rise and shine. And doesn't that just smell so delicious?**_

The voice bounced around somewhere in her skull. Buffy registered the surroundings and her heart sank in disappointment. She felt no real will or desire to budge even an inch from the white bed sheets. She stared intently at the cream ceiling. The room itself was normal. The walls were the same colour as the ceiling. Plain net curtains covered a tightly sealed window. A small chair faced it. A wardrobe in the corner sat next to the small dressing table with a tiny lamp perched on it; the kind where you bent the neck to change the angle of the light.

Just as she really began to achieve that comfortable level of despair, the distinctive _tip tap _of feet resonated from the landing hall. She identified the awkward movement as a signature Giles shuffle.

Her head slowly turned toward the bedroom door.

She pretended not to notice the knock - she probably wouldn't have without Slayer hearing, quiet as it was. It gave her a few more seconds to adjust from the transition of being deep asleep to somewhat awake. Her mind crawled up from a place of worry. Thanks to this unplanned disappearance, she had no idea of the conditions back in her world. Images of all her friends, her mother, and Riley leapt to mind.

The knock came again, bolder and firmer. "Buffy?" Giles' easy urban lilt hung in the air. Buffy wondered how long it took before saying the name caused this Giles no pain at all. Did he have enough time in this dimension to grow to love her and care for her as a daughter? Or was her death simply another in the long line of Slayers before her?

She needed to return to her world, and soon.

"Are you awake? Breakfast is almost ready."

"Yeah, I'm up. Sort of." She stretched out in the bed, feeling slight tension on the right shoulder. Buffy touched the neat patch Giles had slapped over the wound last night and ripped it off. The skin underneath shone mild pink, rawer in contrast to the surrounding tissue. Of the injury, there was nothing left to even remotely indicate being stabbed with a sword less than ten hours ago.

She blinked amazement._ Damn, that's fast. Did I ever heal this fast?_

_**No, but I like it.**_

_Me too._

"Well, uh, I-I'll see you downstairs then." Footsteps pattered away, giving Buffy the opportunity to sink back into mild depression. The overpowering scents dancing on her nose didn't keep her in it for long. They pulled her out with the tantalising smell of bacon, simmering eggs and black pudding - the smoke of toasted bread, sausages and hash browns -

_**Think the British duo plan to cook an English breakfast, **_The Inner Slayer said.

_How... British, _Buffy chuckled, despite herself. _This dimension is clearly evil. They're gonna feed me to death._

_**Yup. Better make your escape now, to be sure.**_

Buffy made her escape out of the bed sheets, grabbing the red dressing gown folded on the chair by the window. She placed it over her ten-sizes-too-big shirt, courtesy of Giles providing clothes the night before. She slept in brown baggy trousers and a shirt which resembled more of a tent rather than a piece of clothing on her tiny frame. She tied the belt securely around her midriff. She looked around the room for any available slippers.

Eventually she fished a pair out of the wardrobe. She would need to ask Voirrey about the fate of her clothes from last night. She only possessed one set in this dimension.

Buffy opened the door, the scent of breakfast tugging her along.

When Voirrey dropped the little bombshell of the current Slayer in residence last night, Buffy admitted her reaction may had been slightly over the top. Hearing Faith's name mentally triggered a certain kind of response, nurtured through the many negative experiences of their many conflicts.

It turned out Voirrey shared a house with Faith, and her original plan involved taking Buffy to said shared house, shared with said Slayer, whom Buffy did not like. At Buffy's reaction, Voirrey decided that perhaps staying at Giles' would be a better idea, only stopping home for a few minutes.

At the time, Buffy still hadn't been fully convinced she dwelt in Alternate Sunnydale. Sure, being told was one thing. But actually letting it register and then accept it? She faced the crazy every day. But Alternate Sunnydale looked almost the same as regular Sunnydale. Only well, it wasn't.

Giles nearly had a heart attack upon seeing Buffy. Voirrey phoned him in advance, kept Buffy stuffed out of view when he first greeted Voirrey at the door, but it still wasn't enough to prepare him for the actual physical sight. His greeting consisted of something to the effect of his face draining of all colour, with a few pointless attempts at forming syllables. He also looked as though he wanted to faint. She guessed being dead for three years did that to some people.

If he hoped Alter-Buffy lived though, she wondered how he felt when he found out she wasn't the same Buffy he knew.

Giles helped patch up the wound, and Buffy condensed the entire course of her life in her own dimension, cliff notes style, from when the Master killed her and she forgot she was supposed to remain dead. The adults had been particularly excited and fascinated by the mention of two Slayers being alive at the exact same time.

Expressions fell when she dutifully informed them her last rendezvous with a certain Slayer ended up with one being locked in jail permanently. Hearing about what happened to Faith in her world really shook them up. Aware her tone came out more bitter and condemning than intended, she tried in compensation to lessen the impact of all the bad things Faith committed.

When Voirrey gently pried her for any information, any details on Faith before she came to Sunnydale, Buffy told her that Faith's Watcher had been killed by the vampire Kakistos.

She had to think for a moment for the name. She didn't enjoy telling Voirrey this fact. She hadn't even considered it greatly before.

Buffy snapped out of the thoughts when walking into the kitchen. The slap of her slippers on the floor grabbed Voirrey's attention, who at the time stood engaged in conversation with Giles. The older woman wore a long white skirt and a yellow, long sleeved top. Her short hair was clipped up. Giles donned a white shirt and black trousers. Voirrey started fussing: "Oh good, there you are. Here's food. Please eat it." The older woman steered Buffy to the table laden with food. A chequered red and white tablecloth covered the wood. "That's yours." She pointed at a plate. The fried eggs stared back at Buffy.

"Interesting choice of clothes," Giles acknowledged.

"Yeah, about that... where did you hide my clothes?" Buffy tucked into her breakfast ravenously, making sure to cut up the eggs.

"Ah yes. I was considering…" Voirrey pursed her lips. "Perhaps we better go shopping later."

Buffy interpreted that to mean she wouldn't be seeing her bloody, torn clothes anytime soon. She sighed through a mouthful of bacon, beans and fried bread.

"Mmf arll mmmrdnnw."

Neither Watcher understood. Buffy gestured vaguely, greatly exaggerating each chew.

"I said...I'm all sad now."

Voirrey patted her in a reassuring way, rolled up her sleeves, and sat down to start her own breakfast. Giles contributed to the meal with his own addition, pouring hot water into a blue teapot. An aroma of fresh peppermint left Buffy no doubt what the concoction was. The teapot was placed on a mat in the middle of the table, along with a pitcher of milk, three mugs, spoons and sugar.

"Did you uh, sleep well last night?" Giles asked, taking one of the mugs. Voirrey reached out to claim one with a blue wreath of flowers decorating the rim, leaving Buffy the one with a picture of the Union Jack. She rolled her eyes.

"Well as I can, I guess. Lot of information digest-y and all that." She tried some toast. The food really did taste good.

"We haven't told the Council about you, as of yet," Giles admitted, filling his mug up. He ignored the sugar and the milk.

"He really wanted to, though." Voirrey shot a look. "We came to the conclusion that it would be more... prudent to wait."

"Yes, quite." Giles used a fork to poke at his bacon.

"Thanks." Buffy smiled at them. The Council liked interfering at the best of times. Buffy entering the game had a very high percentage of whipping them up into an uncontrollable frenzy.

"Also. If you really want…" the older woman leant forward, "We could keep you... separated from the people you associate with in your own dimension. If you want to return to your own world, it may not do to have an emotional attachment to anyone here. The option is there, although returning you to your world might take time."

"I understand what you're saying," Buffy said. "But I'll go postal by myself. I think I can risk meeting them. If they don't mind."

Being alone was not an option. Alternate Scooby or not, big mistake or not, Buffy wanted to see them. Even if they were just mirror images, she wanted to talk to them. Sweet Muppety Odin, she could do with some Willow babble.

"Of course." The Watcher handed Buffy a full mug of tea, mixed with milk and sugar. She sipped her own, froth lathering the top of her lip in a moustache.

Buffy crunched another bit of toast, frowning suspicion. "Do you want to keep me separated?"

"What do you mean?" the female Watcher inquired, polite.

"I mean, how you bought that whole thing up. You're anxious about introducing me to Faith, aren't you? You'd rather we didn't meet up at all. Not that I'd be complaining, but am I right?"

The older woman's expression became unreadable. Buffy meticulously drained her tea, savouring the fresh feel of the peppermint animating her taste-buds.

Giles cleared his throat. "Buffy, I don't think that's - "

"Hold it." Voirrey raised a hand. The crow-feet around her eyes deepened. The side of her mouth erupted in thin small lines.

"Alright then, Buffy. I'll be frank. Yes, I am concerned about Faith. As her Watcher, she is my charge and protection. You say you parted from your Faith on bad terms. You mention she is in jail for crimes committed against others and yourself."

"Yes."

"So I wonder how you will take Faith if you encounter a version of her here."

_Probably with a few punches, kicks, and a stab to the stomach. _"I don't know."

Voirrey nodded, as if this was the answer she expected. "I don't want that prejudice from your dimension spilling over to affect her. She has a hard enough job here as it is, without you bringing or waging a personal war against someone who is innocent of the conflict."

"I see." Buffy chewed on the concept of meeting Faith. A Faith who did not sleep with her current boyfriend and who didn't turn into a psycho killer. A Faith wearing the same face, and probably the same personality. Could she do it?

"I understand it will be hard to adjust. I don't presume or expect you to be amiable to my Faith. But if you can't deal with seeing her and treating her in a neutral way, then I suggest the alternative."

Buffy tapped her fork on the plate. "So, basically, put myself under house arrest until you boot me back home, or suck it up and play nice? Hmm." She pretended to think on the matter. "Hard choice. I'll get back to you on it."

Voirrey's answering expression was priceless. Giles smirked openly from his end of the table.

"Could I ascertain that to mean you might be alright with it, then?" Giles dropped the smirk when Voirrey glared at him.

Buffy gave Giles a wry smile. "Not going to lie. I don't know. But I can at least try, right? I can promise not to beat her into a pulp and leave the squishy stuff alone." _If she does the same for me._

"We can work with that." Giles touched his thumb to his chin. His mouth curved upwards. "It's good to hear your voice. I have… missed hearing your peculiar way of talking. Even if you do decimate the English language with every syllable that escapes your throat." He took off his glasses and started scrubbing them.

It was so awkward and so Giles, that Buffy had to laugh. She devoured the rest of her breakfast, slipping out of the conversation as both Watchers turned to each other. She had a lot to think on.

**Evening**

Buffy's nervousness reached fever pitch. She sat on the chair by the window in her bedroom, clad in new clothes. By way of apology, Voirrey insisted on taking her measurements earlier on before speeding off in her tinbucket of a car, belching gas as she hit the road for the shops. Buffy dreaded what kind of outfits she'd be subjected to. She didn't think it could get worse than Giles sized wear. Voirrey didn't know her tastes, so waiting for the end result felt like an episode of _Blind Date_ with Roger Lodge.

What if she went overboard and bought back the smuttiest clothing ever, like what Faith wore? Bagfuls of leather pants and skimpy tops which barely covered anything. Perhaps some padded bras to perk up the cleavage, and big stampy boots. Maybe she would go the other extreme and dress Buffy up like a private school English kid, all bland colours and jumpers probably knitted by someone's grandma. Oh God. What if there was knee-high socks?

Thankfully, Buffy's fears were misplaced. The items Voirrey presented to her were similar to the sort of thing Buffy normally went for, if a little more sensible and not quite overloaded on the pastel department. She supposed the Watcher already had a guideline in the form of what remained of last night's excursions. All the accessories and gear fitted neatly into one large suitcase.

When interrogated about the expenses, Voirrey scratched her short, curt hair. "Council funds. Milk for all they're bloody well worth."

And that was that.

No. What scared her now, what sent her into the little whirlwind of anxiety, was the fact she would be meeting with the Scoobies. Tonight. Soon. Maybe in just a few minutes.

_I completely asked for this. In every way, _Buffy whined to her Inner Slayer. _And now I'm regretting it. Like. Seriously regretting._

_**It was gonna happen sometime, anyway. It's a small world. Anyway, you've had over half a day to prepare. **_

Buffy frowned._ I spent most of it procastrating._

The Inner Slayer sniggered. _**Procastrating? Score against the destruction of the English language**_, _**again. Think you meant Procrastinate.**_

_Yeah, that one. I totally meant that one. I completely meant to say that._

_**Finish it soon. They're coming. Voirrey spoke to them all. They've probably been "procastrating" all day on this as well. **_

_So funny. I have a funny Inner Slayer. _She felt the voice rustle and vanish.

Staring out the window sent little waves of unease in the bowels of her body. She wasn't really here, she decided. If she wasn't really here, then nothing would be able to affect or bother her. But the notions kept coming. Kept slipping through.

An alternate Sunnydale. An alternate Sunnydale with a dead Buffy. Giles still contacting the Council. Faith with a different Watcher, a Watcher who lived. Buffy wondered how her own life might have panned out if she had different Watchers. How exactly did they assign Watchers to girls like her, anyway? Draw names out of a hat?

Something stirred, like a small hum or buzz in the essence of her being, an alien yet familiar sensation all at once. At first Buffy thought demons lurked nearby the house. That was until Voirrey's car thrummed into the driveway. Buffy pressed her face against the window. The tug came from the vehicle, emitting Slayer energy.

She bit her lip.


	5. Chapter 5

Voices murmured downstairs. Buffy paced around her room, considering vaulting out of the window. Instead she flopped onto the bed sheets like a limp doll.

She felt Faith's presence below, linked to her own by some invisible string. Buffy recognised it as the underlying Slayer connection, In times past, she never noticed the connection with Kendra. Kendra never noticed either, since the Jamaican tried hacking Buffy to death the first time they met.

They made up of course. Slight misunderstandings and all. Plus, in the entire history of Slayers, until Buffy decided dying was a bad idea, two Slayers existing at the same time just didn't happen. Ever.

So who knew what sort of loopy Slayery would be cooked up if they did?

When Faith entered the scene after Kendra's death, sometimes Buffy felt the connection. The link remained tenuous at best, just a small intuitive tug whenever the other Slayer got close, rather like detecting a vampire or demon.

By close, they needed to be in the same room, practically breathing down each other's necks.

And at that distance, they were usually trying to punch or stab each other to death.

This one had a much longer range, spanning around the length of a house. It annoyed her. The last thing she wanted was a direct line to the one person she intended to avoid.

Her ears picked up the tell-tale sounds of footsteps, creaking at a measured pace. A sharp rap at the door jolted her back into reality.

Or at least, a reality.

"Buffy?" Giles called.

"Yeah?"

The door creaked open at the invitation. The Englishman blinked in rapid succession when he saw her on the covers. "Do you uh, need a few more minutes?"

"No! It's fine." Buffy sat bolt upright. She immediately regretted the motion. Making herself vertical again, she gave Giles a thumbs up. "I'm ready! For real. This time."

"Very good. They've all been briefed on you, although seeing you will be an experience. Willow in particular has been getting very excited."

Buffy grinned.She followed Giles downstairs, managing to ignore/suppress most of her thoughts and feelings; including the one plotting an escape route. Their steps were loud. The leaden quiet from the lounge amplified every sound she made and every thump of her heart. She bumped into a picture frame, almost knocking it off the hook. The picture rocked, before calming to a lopsided tilt. Buffy readjusted it, hands trembling. _Stupid. What am I getting nervous for?_

Buffy entered the lounge behind Giles. He issued a rapid reminder to stay calm to the group.

The two brown sofas were occupied to the max. _Willow. Xander. Tara._ Mugs lay scattered on the table. _Anya. Faith. _Voirrey nodded silent encouragement.

Buffy noticed Willow hovering on the edge of her seat, poised like a nervous animal. Xander clenched his hands, his mouth slightly agape.

Buffy tried quirking a friendly smile. "Hey Will. Xander."

"Hey, Buffy," Willow squeaked, eyes like dinner plates.

"Buffster." Xander saluted her.

Tara gave her a friendly wave. "Hey." She smelled of apples. Buffy liked it. The Wiccan appeared friendly and non-confrontational, making her a safe bet to start a conversation with. Everyone else appeared just a little bit too full-on or intense, or Faith. She deliberately didn't look the brunette's way.

"So, Tara. Did you ever get to meet me, here?" Buffy knew the answer.

"I-I'm afraid not." Tara shook her head, giving a little apologetic shrug. "D-do you know me, then? Or the other me?"

"Yeah. Of course I do." _No, not really._ Tara did hang around the group in Buffy's original dimension, but she was so shy and reserved, she may as well had been like one of those mugs on a table. Buffy glossed over that fact.

"Okay. T-that could make things awkward. If you want, w-we can have a talk after this? Just so, um, we can get up to date?"

At that moment Buffy could have hugged Tara, surprised the Wiccan was taking initiative. "Yeah. I would like that. Thanks."

"It's only f-fair, since everyone else knows you, and y-you know them." Tara breathed deeply.

Buffy gave a quick glance around the sea of faces. "How come you're so calm, anyway? About me, that is. You seem to be holding it together pretty well."

"You think so?" The Wiccan smiled. "Cool. Willow talks a lot about you. And... I can read auras." She hugged a cushion to her chest. "Y-Yours is pretty."

"Really? Is it shiny?"

"Very shiny." Tara squashed the cushion tighter, her green sleeves pressing into it like vines. A faint blush crept up on her cheeks. Buffy watched her for a little longer. She realised with absolute clarity that she wanted to get to know the witch more. _Why didn't I see this before? I could seriously like this girl._ Feelings coursed through her. Regret for not speaking to her so much? Guilt for never trying?

Tara raised an eyebrow, her smile becoming a little less.

Buffy turned her attention back to Willow, who still seemed caught on borderline shock. She jumped when Buffy said her name. Buffy had to suppress a shaky laugh. "This is so weird," she said. "You're like, my best friend back in Sunnydale. My Sunnydale, that is. But here, I'm not…" she trailed off.

Something behind Willow's eyes crumpled and the redhead, complete in a multicoloured top and jeans, bounced up.

"No!" She exclaimed, before adding in haste, "That's, I mean, that's good. That I'm, the other me, that is, the other me is your best friend. Right?"

Buffy wanted at that precise moment to crush Willow in a hug. "Yeah. it's good. We were... I mean, are good. We're good."

She noticed Giles facepalming in the background. Voirrey just appeared deeply amused.

"It's so unreal, though," Willow continued, moving a few tentative steps forward. "I mean. You-you look like Buffy, and speak like her, with all the vowel sounds. Well, you are Buffy. Except you're not. Oh, but you are! And older."

Buffy watched Willow creep closer. "I'm like vamp Willow, minus the vamp. Totally without the vamp, though." Buffy furrowed her brow. "Tell me you had vamp Willow in this world?"

Xander let out a high pitched giggle, slapping his hand on his knee. "Yeah, we had Willow making with the vamp. With the leathers. And the whip. It should be illegal to see her wear that much leather."

"Do we have to b-bring that up, um, now?" Willow stammered.

"Oh, c'mon. You _totally _made out with yourself. I mean, like, full on groping and frenching. It was hot. It was also how we realised you were…" Anya grabbed onto Xander's arm and squeezed, making him hiss in pain.

"Xander! You're not supposed to say Willow is hot, because it sounds like you want to have sex with her, when I'm your girlfriend and you're having sex with me."

"No! That wasn't what I meant -" Xander shut up, ears burning as Buffy burst out into startled laughter.

"You implied it. You think I can't read between the lines because I'm a ex-vengeance demon who says everything in a strangely literal way?"

"No! Anya! You've got this all wrong. I do not want to have sex with Willow! Okay?"

"C-can we stop talking about the vamp thing?" Willow was as red as a beetroot. "I'm trying to repress."

"Why you would want to repress that is beyond me," Xander shrugged.

"The same way you're repressing the fact you used to hit on Buffy?" Willow's hands shot to her mouth. "Oops. My mouth's coming up with all sorts of stuff today."

Xander's eyes bulged. "B-Buffy? Of course not. I didn't hit on her. Nothing was being hit on, and especially not Buffy, whom I did not like, and certainly not in the moony eye way, and I should really stop talking now before my foot moves to my mouth."

"Please do," Anya cut in, "Although I am not unkind. You can have Buffy along with us later if you want to. Since she's been dead three years and I understand you might miss her."

"A threesome? Throw in the witches and ya got a sin wagon."

"Ew! Faith!" Tara and Willow said in unison.

"What?" Faith said, defensive. "You guys were talking about getting it on. I wanted a say."

"No one is getting it on over here," Buffy said, unable to keep the mirth out of her voice. "Although, thank you for considering me."

Her expression froze when their gazes met. Previously the dark Slayer had been taking interest in the walls, or the debate between the Scoobs. Buffy ignored the ongoing conversation and waited for a flash of heat, or rage. Something to bring all those old wounds pouring out. They held eye contact, sizing each other up.

_**Why would she be like that? This Faith hasn't done anything, **_the Inner Slayer whispered.

Buffy set her jaw in a stubborn line._ Yet._

The Slayer connection twanged. Faith's eyebrow jumped as if choreographed with the pull. She creased her forehead and took her eyes off Buffy.

Willow slowed her babbling and twiddled her thumbs.

"Um...this is gonna be all strange and stuff I know. But can I...hug you? If that's okay. I haven't really...y'know...hugged...you."

Buffy broke attention away from Faith, facing Willow. "Sure you can. I could do with a hug right now." They closed up. Cautiously, Buffy held out her arms. Just as cautiously, Willow relocated herself into them. They both clung to each other like koala bears.

Xander bounced on the sofa. "Can I join? I miss my Buff, too."

"Sure you can, Xander-shaped friend," Buffy mumbled into Willow's hair. She breathed in Willow's scent. Musk. Xander enveloped the both of them, his arms not quite making it all the way around their protective koala sanctuary. He smelled of marshmallows. The scents were familiar and comforting.

"Goddess," Willow breathed, her grip becoming firmer. "This is beyond weird right now. I'm hugging a Buffy, and I like it."

"And she's not even hitting us for being all clingy!" Xander exclaimed.

Buffy gave him a punch.

"Ow. Anyway. You know we've missed you right, Buff?"

Buffy blinked back moistness from her eyes. "I.. may have been noticing."

"And I know this is going to sound pretty crazy…" The lump in Xander's throat bobbed. "… But I want to apologise to you."

"What for?"

Xander studied the floor. "For well, not saving you. Other you."

Buffy felt a rush of understanding. "Oh." _Of course_. "Um, no hard feelings. If it makes you feel any better though, I'm here right now, because of you. Well, other you."

Almost as soon as she said it, she wanted to kick herself. He obviously felt guilt for 'failing' her. Come to think of it, it might even empathise said failure. The last thing she needed to do in this dimension was start breaking people with stupid thoughtless comments.

"It sounded better in my head," she apologised.

Xander chuckled. "It's okay. I get it. Thanks, Buff."

"You guys probably shouldn't be hugging me. For all you know, I could be a serial killer back from where I come from. Or some weird clone."

"Well…" Xander shrugged, letting go of the embrace, "I honestly didn't think of that."

Willow dismissed the notion. "Cordelia said it would be you. She's rarely wrong about her vision-y stuff." She squeezed Buffy's shoulder. "And you and me, missy, we've got a lot of catch up to do."

"I'll hold you up to that."

Xander and Willow went back to their seats, leaving Buffy alone to face the mob. She felt less awkward now, but decided the meeting was trudging towards its natural

end. Nobody would complain if she made excuses and left. She hoped. The next person to break the silence was Faith.

"We could do with extra help around here. You wanna patrol later?"

Voirrey shot a warning glance to Faith, who ignored it.

"Hey, always up for slaying evil things." Buffy made it sound as neutral as possible, not trusting her own reactions when it came to the dark Slayer. This one looked like her, sounded like her, moved like her. The way she sprawled on the sofa, the dark jeans and tank top - all of it brought a ball of hated memories into her mind.

"Wicked. Get to see what sort of skills you're packing in that body." She curled her lips into a smirk. Buffy identified the message as a challenge.

She mirrored the smirk.

**Patrol**

Faith prowled in front of the group, Buffy walked behind. Everyone without exception came to the patrol, which, according to Giles, was rare nowadays. Usually patrol groups consisted of Faith and at least one magic user. They didn't range out too far, focusing mainly on areas around high populated places. So cemeteries near residential homes, clubs or the university. Sunnydale High had been destroyed last year by a giant snake demon and the antics of the Scoobies. Faith took part in blowing the snake demon to smithereens, taking all of Sunnydale High with it.

"We thought for a moment she wasn't going to make it," Willow confessed to Buffy when recalling events. "She got that big nasty snaky mayor demon to chase her inside to stop him eating people. Xander was asking where she went, and then the school went boom. Bits of mayor everywhere like candy. Bad, disgusting, non-edible candy. Why did I think of candy? Anyway, Giles started making the sacrifice announcement, getting us all teary eyed, then she walks up to us covered in powder and was all, 'So, guess that means school's out.' It was so awesome."

"That's cool," Buffy said. She compared the information of events to what went down in her own dimension. So this Faith didn't join sides with the Mayor, blowing him up in place of Buffy. So if she didn't join the bad side, then she didn't spiral down into crazy land. But why not? What was so different?

She squinted at Voirrey. The female Watcher walked next to Faith, engaging her in quiet conversation. _She didn't lose her Watcher. And she didn't have to complete with me, _Buffy realised.

_**Funny how things turn out, **_The Inner Slayer whispered.

_It all seems a little too perfect. I don't like it. _Buffy scowled at Faith's back. She breathed in the cool, fresh air, secure in her navy coat, combat trousers, and beanie hat. Before she became a Slayer, bench presses were something only strapping, muscular guys who went to the gym every day could do. Afterwards, lifting nine-hundred pounds? No problem. The only thing that sucked was the fact her enemies also possessed the same kind of strength.

Buffy crunched along the uneven ground in her steel-capped boots. She could see them being more practical than high heels on a number of occasions. Buffy suspected that if Voirrey or Giles had the opportunity, they would kit both Slayers up in full body armour, or have them sit in tanks. They acted fairly protective. Giles in particular kept checking to see if Buffy was doing okay, if she wanted to rest, if she wanted the company. He offered training sessions in the near future. Voirrey thought the patrol a good opportunity to test Buffy's progress as a Slayer.

She checked out Faith again, walking as far from the other Slayer as possible without losing sight of the rest of the patrol. Pale moonlight trickled onto the ragged grey surfaces of cemetery stone, and glinted in the grass. Willow, Giles and Xander talked, their voices blending into the inky background.

Grasping the stake in her coat pocket, she took comfort in the texture of the sturdy wood and its rough, whittled surface.

Strange as it seemed to admit, being on patrol made her feel a little more at home. She didn't have to worry about much, other than where a vamp might make an appearance. The Slayer part of her that enjoyed fighting wondered how Faith fought. Buffy felt sublimely confident in her own skills. The Faith she knew fought with raw, unbridled power, lacking technique. She had no style or focus behind her moves, slugging out punches and kicks as though stuck in a drunken pub brawl. Good enough for the average vampire and unaware Buffy, but not useful in the long run, since Buffy's extra training always gave her the edge, the ace in the hole in their conflicts. Faith's other disadvantage was that she fought with too much emotion, too much rage and recklessness, as though she didn't care about what happened to herself. Would this one be the same? Buffy anticipated finding out.

Two hours into the patrol, the whole gang clustered around an array of headstones and trees. When walking amongst the living dead and regular dead - a graveyard seemed as good a place as any to set up camp, picnics, or a short rest. The whole group shared between them seven sun bombs. Voirrey had one. Faith had three. Willow and Tara held one each, and Giles kept the last. Xander and Anya apparently didn't have any because

they tended to be a little trigger-happy.

Buffy found out that fetching the ingredients for the bombs was a bundle of fun, that they only discovered the spell by accident, and the explosives were pretty vitalin today's Sunnydale. It would take them a fortnight to make more.

Three weeks ago the tally chart was fifteen bombs. They only ever used the bombs when the numbers worked unfairly in their advantage, so the fact they ate through the bombs so fast made Buffy wonder just how badly infected this Sunnydale was from the creature of the night syndrome. Maybe their apocalypse wasn't too far off. She saw no signs of Initiative activity, and they greeted her with blank stares when she asked.

"You think the bads aren't coming because there's a lot of us?" Buffy questioned. She wrapped her arms tight about herself, hunching up small in an effort to contain warmth. Her breath condensed in the night air.

"It's possible," Voirrey conceded. She adjusted her purple scarf, rubbing her gloved hands together. "But it may not be wise to seperate. They would take full advantage of that."

"Quite right," Giles agreed. He wore a bulky black jacket. The combination of the glasses and jacket made him resemble a huge beetle. "Always stay near someone with a sun bomb. The demons group up much more nowadays than their usual, solitary ways…" He sighed. "So much for statistics stating that one in fifty thousand people is a vampire."

"Rules like that don't apply to Hellmouths, Rupert. I fully suspect that half the population here is a little on the evil side."

Buffy raised a hand. "Stupid question, I know, but do the bombs work against demons? Demons that are not vamps."

Voirrey directed an amused look. "Remember what happened when I told you to close your eyes and you didn't?"

"Oh."

Faith lounged against an overturned headstone, hair tied in a rigid ponytail. Although everyone else around appeared as relaxed as they could be under the circumstances, Faith remained tense. Her huge dark eyes constantly scanned the surroundings, unwilling to relent even for a moment. The brunette used her Slayer senses to probe. Buffy did the same. It helped in locating freshly made vamps, still stuck in their coffins. Each time their mental searching swept over each other, the connection buzzed. It made sense. Both of them were supernatural. Both would ping on each other's radar.

"Buff, you okay?" Willow waved. "You can huddle up with us if you want. Plenty of warmth to go around."

"Yeah. Willow's l-like an oven." Tara dramatically fanned herself.

"I'm okay." Buffy circled the group, impatience surging through her. She needed something to kill, and soon.

Both Slayers stiffened.

"Guys, got something," Faith announced. She pounced to her feet, stake in hand before anyone else reacted. "Just a couple. No prob." She stalked away, emanating off her. She glanced at Buffy. "Almost forgot. You along for the ride, B? Even let you get first poke."

"Sure, F." Buffy twirled her own stake, catching up. "I can handle both, if you want."

"Depends how quick you are." Faith fell back, a provocative smirk dancing on her lips.

Buffy padded softly, following her senses. One vampire clawed partially out of a grave. His thin fingers scrabbled on the grass. Soil bucked as his head emerged, spitting out dirt. Buffy watched him struggle for a little longer. After a moment he blinked his yellow eyes clear and looked up.

"Hey, cupcake. Fancy digging me out of this hole? I'll make it worth your while."

"Think you just dug yourself a deeper one." Buffy yanked him up and stabbed his chest. A surprised, gurgled squawk disintegrated into dust.

Faith snorted. Another grave started to move. The brunette positioned herself, jostling the stake over the ground where she judged the heart of the vampire to be. With a grunt she plunged in, her whole arm disappearing into the earth. She pulled back out with a thin, feral smirk.

"Score." She wiped some of the dirt off. "Too slow, B."

"Sharing is caring." Buffy smarted at the word _B. _"Didn't you want to play with the vamp a bit?"

"Not worth the trouble."

This surprised Buffy. Her Faith once got so carried away pounding some random vamp's face in, Buffy nearly ended up pulverised when calling for help. Her Faith was reckless, unpredictable and savage. Not really much of a thinker.

This Faith brushed off her sleeves in a practised manner, ready to crash down on the next vampire daring to show his sorry ass. She beckoned. "You coming?"

Buffy walked into stride next to the brunette. She observed large, purple shadows hitched under Faith's eyes. The constant searching and inability to relax gave the brunette a haunted appearance. More than that. Under the pale moon, Faith looked ill. Gaunt. Ragged. Or maybe it was a trick of the light?

"We usually get a few more vamps than this," Faith informed her as they circled around the others. She tilted her head and scratched at her hair. "Prob gonna pack up soon. No action means a lie in."

"Do you guys alternate patrols, then?" Buffy stashed her stake neatly away.

"Usually me and at least one of the lezzos," Faith replied. "I go nearly every night. Don't go to school, so it's no big. Not like with Red and the others." The brunette's expression said otherwise. Buffy recognised envy when she saw it.

"Uh, that's not bad. You can focus more on slaying stuff, right?"

"Yeah, I guess. You went to school?"

Buffy nodded, sighing. "I didn't really do it very well. Felt kinda dumb, mostly. Skipped studies a lot because of the odd apocalypse or two."

"Dropped out eight grade." Faith lifted a shoulder. "Was a bad time, for a while. In a bad place." She fixed Buffy with a penetrating stare. "I heard about that, you know."

"Huh?"

"From Voirrey. About Other-Me... getting on the crazy train."

"You did, huh?" Buffy frosted over. Faith regarded her in puzzlement.

"Gonna guess that shouldn't be something you wanna talk about?"

"You guessed right."

"Hmm." Faith lapsed into silence.

_Well. That killed that conversation. _

"Sorry," Buffy tried, in a bid to salvage... whatever it was they had going on.

"S'okay." Faith walked a little faster. Gravel crunched under her feet. "Can't help but be curious though, you know? Thinking about all these different places. How things musta turned out in them."

"I suppose." Buffy hadn't thought about it. She didn't really want to.

"Mind screw and a half. Damn scary. But of course, can't imagine what you must be going through. You must be freaking."

Buffy chewed her lip in brief agitation. "A bit."

Faith waited for Buffy to elaborate. Buffy pretended to concentrate hard on the scenery.

"Never mind, then," Faith muttered. "Gonna stake the left." She stalked away into the shadows.

Buffy stared after her, resisting the urge to apologise. The brunette appeared to be making a tentative effort to reach out. Buffy on the other hand, couldn't deal with it. Looking into her face bought their whole sordid past bubbling up to the surface. Hearing her voice triggered impulses to lash out. It was just too much to cope with on top of everything else.

Those memories contained nothing but pain.

She sighed, veering off to seek more undead to kill. Luck smiled on her when near the end of the cemetery, she spotted four shifty people hanging outside a crypt. They smoked cigarettes, dressed in outfits that should have been vetoed out decades ago. Their scent screamed to her of vampires. That, and the teeth. Faith patrolled by the other end of the graveyard, not yet in range.

Buffy sneaked closer. She caught snatches of conversation.

"So, Harriet, you've been dead a few weeks. How many you killed?"

Harriet, a raven haired vampire, smiled at the speaker as she puffed on a cigarette.

"Twelve."

"Whoa. That's pretty hot."

"Thanks, Lee. I try. Gotta get the hang of the whole being evil thing."

"It's an art. The badder, the better," a bearded vampire confirmed. "Anything with kids, puppies or kittens, and you go way up the scale."

"Really? Puppies?" Harriet appeared interested.

The last member of the group, a spotty looking teenager, spoke up. "Terrorising the victim works too. Don't have to always go for the jugular. Once I haunted this old ladies house. She was the kind who had like a million cats. Killed one each night, left messages on the fridge in blood. Even made a little rope of intestines and hung it over the ceiling a couple times. It ripens the taste, fear."

"Mmm," Lee agreed.

"That's pretty sad. Don't you guys have a life? Oh wait. You don't." Buffy stepped into view, stake on display. All vampires blinked at her in astonishment.

"Whoa! Where did that chick come from?"

"Lee… she has a stake." Harriet ditched her cigarette, reaching for a knife. "She probably wants to kill us."

"Waste the bitch," the bearded vampire growled. They all jumped her. Buffy laughed in delight and caught the wrist of the teenager, tugging him aside to slam him into the crypt wall. She jumped over Lee and kicked Harriet's knife aside, grabbing and rolling with the vampire over the ground. Harriet attempted to bite and scratch at Buffy, snarling murder. Teeth snapped inches away from Buffy's face. She jammed the stake into the vampires mouth and twisted. She left Harriet thrashing on the ground and took a punch from the bearded guy, reeling sideways. She dug for another stake and tripped him up, quickly pouncing forward to get the first kill. She made short work of Harriet as well, losing a stake in the process.

Lee howled at her and flailed a left hook. The spotty teenager circled behind. Buffy ducked and weaved Lee's haymakers, unable to wipe the grin off her face. _This is fun_. Sensing the vampire behind preparing to strike, Buffy slid out last moment to watch him sucker punch Lee.

Before she made another move, Faith whirled into the fight. The brunette hurled one stake at Spotty and tackled Lee, dusting them simultaneously. The absolute precision and speed ripped a snarl of appreciation out of Buffy. She tucked her stake away and paced around Faith, breathing heavily. The excitement of the fight pulsed in her bloodstream.

Faith circled with her. "Pretty sick moves you got, B."

"Not bad yourself. Were you watching?"

"Saw you get the drop on the scrawny one." She licked her lips salaciously. "You look like you've been put out."

"You did kill my vamps," Buffy said. Their connection fizzled. The brunette's movements were tight and controlled, sinuous, perfectly poised. Power radiated off her form.

Buffy feinted a jab. Faith didn't react. They continued circling, testing each other's defences. Faith stepped in close. Buffy curled and roundhouse kicked. Faith grabbed the kick and sent Buffy off balance, fast as lightning. She rammed Buffy before she recovered and danced back into the same spot, pacing around her fallen opponent.

Buffy got up. _Good moves. Fast. Military_. She feinted more punches. Faith took the bait on one and they launched into an exchange of blows. Faith used her arms and fists more, Buffy utilised her leg strength more. Finally breaking through the brunette's guard, she smashed an uppercut into Faith's jaw. The brunette staggered back, dazed, but somehow managed to dodge out of the next attack, weaving behind Buffy and twisting her left arm back. The pain forced Buffy gasping to her knees.

"That all you got?" Faith said.

"Honey, I'm just getting started." Buffy's fighting instincts reached fever pitch. She back kicked and wrenched herself out of the hold, turning on Faith. She noticed the way the brunette protected the side of her stomach. Buffy's hand slowly slid into her jacket for the stake.

"What's going on?"

Buffy and Faith froze. Voirrey strode towards them, flanked by the others. "You better not be doing what it looks like you're doing."

"Just testing out moves. We staked a few vamps." Faith stood easy, relaxing her muscles. It took longer for Buffy to do the same.

"Don't be foolish. What if any more of them assaulted whilst you girls were busy fighting? This is a cemetery," Giles reminded them. "It's not safe."

"Sorry." Faith shifted from side to side, like a guilty child. Buffy swallowed, her mind un-fogging. She twitched her hand away from her jacket as if burned, hastily brushing her sleeves.

_Oh my God. I was going to try and stab her. _Buffy couldn't comprehend why_. _One moment they were sparring, witnessing each other's skills, the next…

It was like something else had taken over. Something else had moved her hand. Spooked, Buffy headed away from Faith, not trusting herself to look or speak at the brunette.

_**Be careful what you wish for. **_


	6. Chapter 6

**Faith's House, Basement**

Faith pummelled the speed bag in rapid succession. Voirrey placed on protective gear nearby. After three consecutive hours of working out, a mass of beady sweat trickled over Faith's body. Her white tank top stuck to her skin, and her lips tasted of salt.

She unclenched her hands and stopped on the speed bag to wipe off perspiration, beginning light stretches in preparation for the next exercise.

"You know, I was thinking..."

"Of what?" Voirrey held up two hand pads. Faith whirled into a crouch, hands extended like claws. She shifted from one bare foot to the other on the blue training mat. Her tongue poked at a chipped molar.

"Buffy. Who fights better."

"That's down to skill. You both utilise the same strength." Voirrey braced herself for Faith's blows.

"Uh, actually, not so sure about that. You measure Slayers in the past? Like get them to bench press or whatever, compare results?"

"Not really." Voirrey considered the idea. "I don't believe the Council ever needed to. You are capable of dead lifting eight hundred pounds, give or take, though."

"Yeah…" Faith sucked in a deep breath, launching herself onto the pads. Voirrey smoothly moved backward to lessen the impact of the strikes. "Well, yesterday, she came over. We were bored. Did some sparring. She's pretty good. Maybe not as trained or as fast as me. But…" Faith lashed out at the pads in an array of different punches and kicks. All the while, Voirrey retreated in a circular motion, blocking with expert precision.

"Again with the suspense," Voirrey curled her lips, dodging a kick. Faith slipped on a right cross. Voirrey patted the intruding limb aside with her left pad before it crunched into her chin. Faith slowed her attacks, suddenly paranoid.

"I noticed when we sparred she hit pretty hard." Faith traded slow, predictable blows, mixing a few kicks and knee strikes in. "So I got her to bench press." Faith halted the barrage, indicating the weight in the corner. It had six two hundred kilo rings on either side.

"She lifted that?" Voirrey wiped her face with the pad, going over to inspect the weight.

"One thou and two. I can't do that, V. Eight-fifty's my limit. Dunno if she could lift more, since that's the max I'm able to put on that thing."

Faith still felt shaken from when she witnessed it. She suspected for over a week that Buffy was stronger, but seeing the actual physical evidence left her speechless. Buffy appeared equally astonished at the gap in power, especially since their sparring sessions came out about even in wins and losses.

"Fascinating," Voirrey murmured. "I suppose we've never had need for a comparison before. But with two Slayers alive…" She walked back to Faith, continuing the practise session. "Perhaps it's to do with the Potential's physical type. I can't be certain, though. What other differences are there? Assuming you checked."

"Yeah, we did." Fail smiled, wry. She twisted in the air, hitting the Watcher with a roundhouse and following through with an elbow strike. Voirrey fell a few paces back from the impact. "We figured we had the same constitution. Slayers can endure pretty nasty hits. Didn't push that too far, though. Did wall to wall running and turns out I'm way faster. Last…" Faith laughed when Voirrey tripped her up. The Watcher stepped out of range of her protégé's flip upright. "Last, my fight technique's better."

"Anyone is capable with the right training and knowledge to take on opponents stronger than themselves," Voirrey nodded approval, blocking a soaring uppercut. "You turn their strength against them."

Faith nodded as well, brow furrowing in concentration. They stretched out the session for a few more minutes in relative silence before Faith called an end. Voirrey sagged in relief, groaning as she peeled off the pads. They towelled off excess sweat and drank water from a bottle to hydrate.

"Would you say you were on amiable terms with Buffy, then? I mean, since you are sparring together on occasion. Should I consider inviting her around for dinner?" The female Watcher flung the towel over her shoulder, a smile playing about her mouth. Faith spotted a bruise on Voirrey's forearm and frowned.

"I do that? Let me get something for it."

"It's alright," Voirrey dismissed the offer, pulling a long sleeved top over her sports wear. "But let me ask again. Do you get along with Buffy Summers?"

Faith lifted a shoulder up and down. "Guess we're cool. Wouldn't say great. Reckon the other Faith did a real number on her."

Voirrey shook her head. "I like how you say that with a straight face. I imagine it's bizarre for Buffy to interact with you, then. Fascinating to consider." The Watcher pondered the train of thought as they headed upstairs into the hallway. "To be honest, I thought she would actively avoid you, given her initial reaction to your name. She did however, omit things when mentioning their tumultuous past. It wasn't hard to notice. They don't just call us Watchers for nothing." Voirrey entered the kitchen and started filling up a glass with scotch. "I wonder what she didn't tell us."

"Who knows." Faith swiped some of the scotch. The Watcher glared at her. "What? I'm eighteen."

Voirrey sighed and took another small glass out of the cabinet. "You need more lessons in manners, young lady." She gave Faith a quick peck on the cheek before grabbing the bottle and heading into the lounge.

Faith gulped down the scotch, feeling it burn her throat. She thought about the interactions and altercations in the past week. Dealing with Buffy Summers had been a trial unto itself. She never quite knew where she stood with the blonde. They fought well together. Patrols became easier due to the double Slayer combo roaming out after dark. Four days ago, they'd even risked a patrol without Tara or Willow tagging along. Usually, Faith never went without at least one Wiccan. More than once their shielding abilities had saved her ass. However it also meant missing nights patrolling when both witches needed time recovering their mojo. If Faith tried going out alone, Giles and Voirrey would ride up her ass and threaten to chain her to something.

She got more syllables out of Buffy every day. She enjoyed the patrols more than normal, because of the competitive vibe between them. The training session yesterday was a fantastic workout, even if it left her spooked with the revelation of the petite blonde's strength.

She knew Buffy would be gone soon once they sorted out the dimensional issues. The smaller Slayer didn't belong here.

But the Slayer connection, Faith would miss.

_**Are you sure that's all you'll be missing? **_The Inner Slayer whispered.

_Yeah. Why? _Faith headed upstairs, intending to plunge into a shower.

_**Was thinking you might miss the actual Slayer, too.**_

_Dunno if I know her enough for that. Might do. _Faith grabbed a towel from the airing cupboard. _We'll have to see. _She headed into the bathroom, tearing off her clothes one by one. The Inner Slayer's snide comments gave her food for thought.

Later, when she was towelling herself dry in her room, Voirrey knocked on the door.

"Yeah, V?"

The door cracked open. The Watcher snaked her hand through and waved Faith's cellphone. "You left this on the table. Tara's calling."

"Now?"

"Yes, now."

"Right."

"So, do you want the phone or shall it wait until you're appropriate?"

"Lob it."

Voirrey tossed the phone. Faith caught the device out of reflex, tightening the towel better around her body with one hand as she held the phone to her ear. "Thanks, V. Nice throw."

"Thank you, dear." The door shut.

"Hey, Tara."

"_Hey, Faith. Just wanted to call, see how you're doing."_

"Five by five. 'Sup, girlfriend?"

"_Just finished dinner. Will and Buffy came over, and they're talking about the good old days which their c-carbon copies shared. It's sort of head bendy."_

"I hear ya." _Buffy at Willow and Tara's house? _An irrational surge of jealously shot through Faith. Suppressing the feeling, she kept her voice level. "You guys all coming out to pat tonight?"

"_Ah…" _Guilt dripped in Tara's voice. _"Not me. I'm all out. So is Will. I'm sorry. Our b-batteries need a little recharging. We would come otherwise, you know we would."_

Faith shook her head, picking a piece of dead skin off her forearm. "No need to be sorry. Not gonna whale on you or anything."

"_Want to come over? You could take a break. Y-You deserve one." _

"Nah. Got me an itch to scratch. All play and no slay makes Faith a... well, you know what it makes me." She grinned, seeking out clothes.

Tara bypassed the lecherous connotations. _"Seriously. You do this every single night without fail, unless you have no choice. It worries me."_

"Why? It's not like I do anything else, is it? I don't go to school. I'm no brain. What I am is a hot chick with superpowers. Seen you checking out the muscles."

"_Faith_." Tara could almost be heard rolling her eyes. "_Taken, remember, sweetie? And we still don't know whether you plan to join the gay parade a-anytime soon. My advice - don't, please. I want to keep my girlfriend. For a long time_."

"You're too harsh on yourself," Faith said, laughing. "Anyway, down to business. See, I wanna patrol, but without you witch-fu freaks, it's gonna be sitting on my ass, tearing my own hair out, or pulling some Cro-Mag at the Bronze. Think Buffy'll come?"

"_I can ask. But I still think you should take it easy."_

"I'll be fine."

Tara yelled Willow's name. A faint reply was heard.

"_A-Ask if Buffy wants to go patrolling with Faith tonight, okay?_"

More murmuring. Faith waited as patiently as possible, phone glued to her ear as she rummaged through a chest of drawers. Her hearing picked up raised vibrations, and Tara's steady breathing on the other side. Faith yanked out a black, long-sleeved top. She tossed it aside and found a tight fitting leather bolero. A tank-top. Jeans...

"_What are you doing?_"

"Clothes-finding. I'm in my birthday suit at the moment," Faith grunted, scrabbling through the drawers for something. She didn't want to dump everything out onto the floor, because it wasn't fun to try and fit it all back in again. The weather forecast mentioned a bad bout of frost as well. She'd probably have to wrap up like a water bottle for the next few months.

"_You're...what?_"

"Is that steam coming out the mouthpiece?" Faith teased. She pulled out a dark brown shirt and a sports bra.

"_Give me a little more credit than that. I'm not steamed. N-Not even the slightest little bit steamy_."

"Remember what I said about you being harsh on yourself, blondie?" Faith eyed thongs piled up at the right of the drawer. She decided discreetly she wouldn't be wearing those tonight. "You're totally steamy. A little sweet and innocent maybe, but steamy as pie."

"_Hey. I'm not like t-that. I'm... sour. And not innocent. I bet I've seen way more things than you. What's the word Willow uses...? You hussy_."

"Yeah, I bet you've seen way more things too. Red naked, for starters."

Tara groaned. "_I walked r-right into that one_."

Faith turned the phone onto loudspeaker, placed it on the bed and sat down, unravelling the towel. "Shouldn't make it so easy for me, then."

A moment later, Tara spoke again. "_Yeah. Buffy will come_."

"Cool." Faith struggled into the dark brown top. "Gotta motorvate, then. Thanks for that. Meet usual place, tell her that."

Tara confirmed _yes_. Faith ended the call, finishing sliding into a set of clothes. Now presentable, she tucked the phone in her jean pocket and headed downstairs. Voirrey was seated at the dining table, flicking idly through a book. Voirrey glanced up and gave a warm smile.

"What's the agenda for tonight then?"

"Patrol with Buffy. Others need a recharge."

"Okay." Voirrey placed a bookmark and closed the novel. She rummaged in her bag which was strewn out on the table by the vase of flowers, and pulled out three things. One and two were a pair of fingerless gloves. The other was a silver chained necklace with a onyx coloured cross as the decoration. "Here. Gifts for you."

"Thanks?" Faith twitched her nose. The gloves smelled peculiar: dried leather, fresh material and a tang of rust. She tugged them on and grinned.

"I thought you'd like them." Voirrey started to fix the necklace about Faith, taking care not to catch any loose strands of hair. "No one will think twice about you wearing gloves."

"Gloves weighted with lead. Nice!" Faith crowed. She flexed her hands a few times, testing the weight and feel. The steel inside them was double lined, so her skin remained warm and untouched. "Okay, I admit, these are wicked cool."

"And hopefully, what little police force that does exist in this Godforsaken town won't arrest you for wearing them." Voirrey clasped the necklace, examining her handiwork. "The necklace is a charm. I procured it a week or so ago, mail order made sure it arrived yesterday...ridiculously expensive."

"What kind of charm?" Faith took a closer look at the onyx stone, lifting it up in front of her eye. It flashed in the light of the chandelier. The stone was carefully crafted into a small cross.

"Protective charm. I searched high and low for it - for several copies of it, actually. You can charge it up. It's full at the moment with sunlight. You just leave it in the sun for a few hours and it soaks it right up. You let a vampire touch it when it's full and it'll die."

Faith stared at the necklace with a lot more interest. "Really?"

"Cross my heart."

"Neat…" Faith ran the pad of her thumb over the material.

"You'll have to replenish it again after one use. It even says so in the manual. The magicks used on it are old and obscure. And I could only find one…"

"How much did this thing cost?" Faith breathed, watching a tiny yellow flash, like a flame dance in the depths of the stone.

"Arm and a leg." Voirrey smiled, pleased. Faith admired the gifts. Then she frowned.

"You should have the necklace." Faith reached for the clasp at the back of her neck. "It'll be better for people who aren't defended against vamps. Like you, Giles, Anya, or Xander…"

"You're the soldier on the frontline, so you get it." Voirrey stopped Faith from taking it off. "And I'll try and find some more. Don't fret about that. No, don't."

Faith pulled a face, but relented. "Thanks for the goods. Dunno what I'd do without you and your gimmicks."

**Patrol**

Faith walked briskly, chill seeping into her bones despite the numerous layers she had on. Faint slivers of frost coated grass, stone and asphalt. It poked out of drainage and froze onto pipes. Sunnydale lay in the midst of a cold snap. Last time the snap lasted for a month. Radiators with their brass became too frostbitten to turn on properly.

The two Slayers met at the usual place, a couple of blocks around from Giles' abode, and approached the first cemetery like clockwork. Buffy was cool and distant. They exchanged minimal conversation, and although Faith outwardly accepted it, she wondered after a bit what stick had wedged itself up the smaller Slayer's ass.

The first cemetery had little to no activity. They caught another newbie vamp struggling out of his grave, staked him, and moved on to the next.

Time trickled in the curt silence between them, and the lack of opponents. Faith started mentally comparing Buffy to herself in terms of looks. Faith went for a sultry, steamy style. She was the dark wild girl you saw dancing in the middle of the floor at a club, unafraid and liberal of her sexuality. She knew she generated a lot of attention from her looks, so manipulated the knowledge to her advantage.

Buffy was more of the cheerleader type. She had a snug sort of cuteness about her. Blond hair, expressive hazel eyes, with the kind of lip you _knew_ could twist itself into a pout worthy of a criminal act. She also yielded a button nose that would have looked awful on anyone else's face, but somehow worked with hers.

And the muscles.

For a short-ass, the girl packed some very prominent muscles. Faith discreetly eyed her as they crunched across the gravel of the second cemetery. Black iron railings curled around like grasping limbs.

She could see the slight bulge of Buffy's triceps, and the strong neck muscle lying snug next to her jugular. Her thighs and calves if anything were more pronounced than Faith's. Could it explain why their differences in Slayer strength was so vast? Whatever body type you sported before being zapped with Slayer mojo determined the distribution of your power?

_**Good theory, **_the Inner Slayer approved. _**Even if it is rehashed from your Watcher.**_

Faith wondered if she could best the blonde in a fight. A proper fight, no inhibitors in place. She suspected the blonde held back in their sparring. Of course Faith did as well, but not to the same extent as her sister Slayer. Faith reflected on the mood of the patrol tonight. Buffy's attention seemed erratic, her movements twitchy. Impatient energy radiated from their connection. Faith needed to break the silence.

"Buffy."

Buffy responded with a curt tilt in her general direction. "Yeah?"

"You're kinda tense. Something up?"

"Patrol. Vamps. Makes for the tense-y moments." The blonde readjusted her scarf, wrapping it tighter. Faith watched her stride ahead and step over some weathered gravestones.

"Girlfriend, you're seriously tense. Are you…?" Faith grinned in realisation. "You are. Non-fat yoghurt my ass."

"Huh?" Buffy whirled on Faith, eyes wide.

"That crap you gave me a couple days ago, 'bout how Slaying makes you crave a yoghurt. It ain't true. You're antsy."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm fine." Buffy fidgeted, uncomfortable from Faith's attention.

"It's okay. I'm kinda feeling it too." Faith felt certain now. She had the blonde squirming. "Happens when you don't get a good fight in a long while. You just need to let off some steam."

_**Careful. That's a wild Slayer you're poking there. It might bite.**_

_Hilarious._

"I'm nothing like you. Just because you get your H and H or whatever you call it, doesn't mean I do as well."

"Other me says Hungry and Horny too, huh? Right." Faith tilted her head to the side, smirking at Buffy's indignant reaction. She pinched her thumb and forefinger together. "So not even a little bit?"

Buffy shook her head stubbornly. She didn't keep up the scowl for long, wilting under Faith's stare. "Well… maybe a little."

"Baby steps. You'll get there." Faith chuckled. "We'll get that stick out your ass yet."

At this statement, Buffy froze still. Her mouth twitched, as if about to lash out words.

"That offend you? You got a nice ass if that makes it any better."

Buffy took a few short breaths, raising her head up to the sky. Stars hid behind clouds. "Sorry. Sometimes I forget this isn't my Sunnydale. It's...hard."

"How come?"

"It's you. You being the leader. The one in charge."

Faith scoffed. "Can't handle me being in driver's seat?"

"Not when I'm used to you crashing. You sound exactly like her," Buffy whispered. "Move like her, act like her."

"I'm _not her_." An irrational surge of jealously shot through Faith. The emotion came unexpected, spinning out of control.

"I'm not so sure about that."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Never mind. I'm sorry I bought it up. Let's just finish this patrol. Okay? Please?"

Faith allowed her eyes to narrow to dangerous slits. She deigned Buffy with a curt nod, but nothing else, prowling on ahead.

The Slayer connection flooded with unease, guilt, and anger from Buffy's end. Feeling the anger added to Faith's own, making her wish the link could be blocked out. The emotions obviously went both ways. Faith was so busy concentrating on ignoring the pervasive feelings that she almost missed it: the hollow _thunk_ of their heavy boots on the grass.

Buffy noticed it straight away. Faith dimly let the sound register in her brain.

Grass did not make that sort of noise. Naturally, anyway.

Both Slayers circled around the patch of grass, testing with their boots how far the hollow sound extended.

The entire width reached an expanse of about eight foot long and four foot wide-a perfect rectangle. Faith scratched away at the ground whilst Buffy watched. Her nails scraped against wood.

Hollow wood. Faith curled her hand and with a mighty punch, broke through the board. She pulled out splinters and widened the hole with a few more punches.

Buffy watched for a moment longer, then joined in. Between the two of them they excavated a decent sized hole in about a minute.

Faith took out a flashlight and flicked the switch. She shone it into the newly excavated gloom.

"Well, damn," she said, forgetting her irritation with the blonde.

"Secret vampire tunnels?" Buffy peered into the hole, over Faith's shoulder.

"I'm thinking we take ourselves for a good little look." Shivers ran up and down Faith's skin from the hot air Buffy breathed on her neck. "Bet there's some real interesting things down here."

"Is it even part of the sewer system?" Buffy said. The walls underneath were solid pinewood. Gaping holes sloped down further into cavernous depths. Rough tunnels with planks strewn along the sides like aged ribs. Four of them in total, with the junction they'd just punched into containing crates, all piled up to one side.

"Wanna find out?" Faith grinned in a predatory way.

"Lead the way, cap'n." Buffy mimicked the grin. Faith dropped straight through the hole, boots and gloves thwacking onto wood.


	7. Chapter 7

Chills rippled through Faith. She picked a tunnel at random and walked silently down it. Buffy dropped in behind to follow, her breathing calm and steady. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling. Walls glistened with a damp hue. The faint _drip_ of water echoed throughout. Puddles and potholes dotted the tunnel. Both girls switched their flashlights on. Thin strands of light tackled the lengthy darkness.

Although Faith couldn't sense the physical presence of the undead, an eerie stillness lingered in her body. The Slayer instinct inside anticipated the hunt. Her keen, sharp eyes saw the bones of a rat hunched in the mossy undertow. The smell of dead and decaying things pushed her lungs.

"The living conditions here are _rank_." Buffy compulsively wiped her sleeves. "I mean, ick?"

Faith prowled around a curve, muscles flexing tight like a steel trap. "Prefer it if we stay quiet for now. Don't want no surprises."

"Not going to happen," Buffy said. "We'll sense a surprise from a mile off. We'll be fine."

"Maybe so. Still," Faith shrugged, "Not too keen on the feel of this place."

"Vamp lair. Always a major creep factor," Buffy replied, wry. Faith grunted agreement.

Signs here and there indicated the tunnel still got used regularly. Black stains smeared the walls. Fait recognised them as blood, no more than a few days old. Anxious quiet settled between them. Then Buffy started muttering under her breath, touching her sleeves and glancing around feverishly. "Usually sewers are cleaner than this…"

"What kind of sewers you been trumping around in?"

"Cleaner ones. Duh."

"Scared of getting down and dirty, huh? And here I thought you were an action kinda girl."

Buffy pointed at herself, indignant. "Hey! It's not like I have much stuff to wear. I've only got a suitcase full. A girl has to be attentive about her clothing when she has limitations. Just... ew! God! That went in my eye!"

"Stop being such a _baby_," Faith drawled, greatly amused as Buffy furiously rubbed her eyelid. "Go and play with your my little ponies or something if you can't handle getting a little _wet_."

"I can handle!" Buffy protested. "I'm all about the handling. But my clothes? Not so much. They hate freaky creepy drippy tunnels." She stared at a small pile of bones and pulled a face. "And little dead rodents. Whiskery little rats…"

"Rats in a sewer. Really? Well I fucking never!" Faith raised her hands in the air in mock astonishment.

"I hate you. I have a vested interest in preserving my clothes."

"A vested interest," Faith echoed, manoeuvring around a large indent on the floor. "Sure. Still don't change the fact you're whining in my ear. Like those little flies."

Buffy's mouth fell open. "I don't whine!"

"Yeah? Then what are ya doing?"

"Talking. Making conversation. You do know how to do that, right?"

"Those panties of yours are bunching." They reached a junction and picked the left catacomb. The scent of dead things permeated stronger in the air. "Let's just keep the convo five by five, before someone says something the other will kill them for."

Buffy snorted. "Deal. What does that even mean, anyway? Five by five."

Faith swivelled her head ninety degrees to face the blonde. "Means everything's a-ok. Means also 'loud and clear.' It's old radio slang. When testing the strength of a signal, an radio operator reported the strength and clarity of a signal on a scale of 1-5. Got used as early as the '50s."

Buffy stared at her. Faith tried to identify the look. Every time Faith did a random thing or said something, sometimes Buffy would just _look _at her. She acted like someone who'd just had someone splash cold water in her face, or found out the family dog was able to talk. The look irritated Faith. It seethed right under her skin. She clenched her jaw and took a few collected breaths to regain better command of the emotion.

Really, it was ridiculous how _easy_ she felt the anger.

"Oh. Didn't know that."

"Not many do," Faith managed, some of the rage diffusing. "Even tripped Red up on it, and you know how nerdy she is."

"Willow does know a lot," Buffy agreed. "She and Giles were like, always the brainy ones."

"Someone's gotta be. Don't think Slayers are exactly famed for their intelligence."

"That's not true," Buffy pouted, offended. "Okay so I'm not exactly up there with the brainiacs, but I refuse to be put in that stereotype."

Faith raised her shoulder up and down. "Whatever. We don't need smarts - we just need pointing so we go bang. The strong ones never have brains, anyway. You see it all the time in movies and games. Although there's Beast," she pondered, "In X-men…" Thinking of comic book superheroes dissipated the last of the anger.

Faith could tell the X-men comment went straight over Buffy's head. The blonde pouted and strode forward, a mini storm cloud brewing overhead.

"Hey, wait. What? Are you annoyed? What did I do?" Faith attempted to catch up.

Buffy splayed out a hand. It stopped an inch from Faith's chest. "Less with the noise. You feel them?" Buffy whispered.

Faith looked down at where Buffy's hand happened to be positioned. "The twins? Nope. But you might."

"What? Ew, no!" Buffy hastily retracted her hand. "I mean the vamps! Bumpy faces! Not bumpy…" She flushed. "Never mind. Can you sense them?"

"No. Getting nothing," Faith said. She stretched her awareness outwards, delving into every taste, sound and smell. She beamed her flashlight all around the stygian tunnel to reveal a fork in the path, still detecting nothing. It was dead and tranquil as before.

Buffy swallowed, her eyes gleaming in excitement. "This way. There's a lot. All grouped up." She weaved to the right. Faith trailed behind, slightly sullen.

_How come she can feel those bastards and I can't? _Faith ventured the question into her mind, waiting impatiently for a reply.

_**Hell if I know. **_The Inner Slayer murmured.

_We should have the same senses, right? Shouldn't we?_

_**Yes. But you've noticed, right? In the patrols. She seems to be on the ball more. Reacts faster. Punches stronger. Senses them from further away.**_

_You saying she's a better Slayer_? The revelation outraged Faith in a lot of ways.

_**She shouldn't be. She should be more or less the same. So once again, I state: hell if I know.**_

The peculiar absence in Faith's mind told her the voice wasn't interested in continuing the conversation. She fumed silently, taking quick peeks at Buffy every now and then.

Buffy's hand twitched over her stake. Faith instantly mimicked the gesture, padding with utmost stealth. The blonde's neck muscles were taut. She faced Faith, nostrils flaring, and mouthed the word, 'Vamps,' flashing her left hand four times.

Twenty vampires. Faith narrowed her eyes.

In normal situations, twenty vampires would send them packing in the opposite direction. A Slayer picked their enemies carefully when they had the choice - in order to live just that little bit longer. Thankfully, soulless vampires and hellish demons tended to be solitary. They had no warm fuzzy feelings for each other. Sure, when it came to selecting targets to kill, they generally avoided each other or occasionally teamed up when it was most convenient. But when they started actually congregating, it caused some semblance of alarm.

"How near?" Faith mimed. Buffy's answering smile was canine.

One corner later, Faith felt her Slayer senses pinging.

_Finally, the bat signal!_ Buffy switched off her flashlight, inviting Faith to do the same. They edged carefully around the next corner to peek at where the vampires gathered. The area in question was a spacious cistern, with five other tunnels leading off into unknown depths. Weathered paths sloped up to the centre, shaped like a circle. Nineteen vampires crowded around an altar. One vampire stood on a podium. A naked woman lay on top of the altar, and judging by the numerous puncture marks on her, dead. The vampire on the podium talked incessantly, his voice reverberating softly in the large chamber.

Bile rose in Faith's throat. Blood swirled in her ears.

"I'll-" Buffy hissed, face full of murderous promise. Faith reached out an arm and grasped Buffy's shoulder to restrain her. She shook her head _no_. Buffy trained the murderous glare on Faith instead.

The expression vanished when Faith pulled a sun-bomb out of her pocket.

Fascinated, Buffy watched as Faith clicked the catch off and discreetly rolled the weapon so it had full view of the entire cistern.

None of the vampires noticed. Both Slayers retreated back and squeezed their eyes shut. Faith manically grinned as the bomb spewed out pure, blazing light. Startled screams and shrieks drowned into silence. The grin turned into exalted, breathy chuckles.

Buffy opened her eyes, expression resembling a fish. "That was easy," she said.

"Uh huh." Faith admired the relatively empty cistern. She began to approach the body tied on the altar.

"It feels wrong, somehow…" Buffy muttered, now the one following behind. "Doing that without a fight. Or even an exchange of insults. It just reeks of wrongness."

Faith ignored her and examined the deceased female morosely. Young, probably no older than sixteen. Her eyes stared sightlessly up to the ceiling.

Faith wondered about her last moments. She wondered about the fear.

She gently lidded the eyes with her thumb and forefinger. She regarded the girl for a little longer in contemplative quiet. Faith noted the pale, anaemic and shrivelled skin. The girl probably had not even a single drop of blood left in her body. No way this one would be rising up as a vampire.

Faith wanted to cover up the corpse. She wanted to hide away the imperfections, the myriad of bite marks and exposed veins on her skin, hide away the fact she had been so violated in a twisted act of darkness. Rage coiled in her body.

"The girl…" Buffy's voice wavered, "She has a mark on her." The blonde pointed at a small tattoo just above the girl's wrist.

The shape of the mark was a blue hexagon - six sides each decorated by a small scarlet circle. Interconnecting black lines between each circle trailed around the hexagon.

Alarm bells rang in Faith's head.

"Do you know what this mark is?" Faith put down her flashlight and held up the dead girl's arm, displaying the tattoo under Buffy's torchlight. It glimmered.

"No," Buffy replied, wrinkling her nose in disdain.

"This is the same pattern as the one we got in SunnyD High."

Faith wasn't sure how much Buffy knew about the human sacrificial spell they had tucked in the ruined foundations of the school. It was something no-one ever liked talking about, because it reminded them of their own constant failure to properly seal the Hellmouth without cost.

"A hexagon? Why?"

Faith dropped the arm, resisting the impulse to punch the blonde flying into the cistern waters.

"There's a problem with the Hellmouth." Faith checked for any other signs or symbols. This was a ritual killing, she was sure of it, and she needed to know _why_. After all, the changeover was soon. _Too soon._

"Isn't there always?" Buffy said dismissively. "The Hellmouth problem thing happens so much, it's practically my end of year exams."

Faith scoffed. "Tell me about it. Problem with this Hellmouth is that it's open."

Buffy neatened her hair, sweeping up loose blonde strands into a tight knot at the back. Faith eyed a scar on her neck. Two pinprick lacerations ribbed the skin. Deep and jagged vampire bites.

The Master, wasn't it? He'd actually killed her for a brief moment. The after bite however seemed uneven, as though Buffy had been bitten more than once. Faith momentarily forgot what else she wanted to say and studied the scars. Funny how such a small thing told so much.

"Open? But.." Buffy paused, her hazel eyes squinting in the faint yellow illumination. Her breath curled and fanned out in the air. A shiver of cold burrowed into Faith's limbs. "It can't be open. This place isn't... apocalyptic-y enough. Right?"

"Oh, it's open, girlfriend. We're just not letting it go all the way. We got a mojo shield around it 'cos we can't close it. That hexagon you see on the girl? That's the symbol of the shield."

"Huh." Buffy crinkled her forehead. "Let me get this straight. You got some freaky pattern around the Hellmouth so it can't cause the apocalypse? Then what's the problem?"

"Everything," Faith spat the word from her mouth. "It needs six human sacrifices every four months to keep it working. It kills them when they cast the spell."

"What? _What_?" Buffy's eyes sparked, the kind of spark that sent small creatures and demons scurrying for a place to hide. "You people_ kill_ people?"

"Don't look at me like that. The spell - I hate it. I…" Faith jerked an arm in frustration. "There ain't anything I can do. Council says it's the only way for now. They and the scoobs - everyone's trying to find a better way to stop it."

"Why can't they just plug it up like every other Hellmouth?"

"Wish I knew. But they can't. If they let it free, we can kiss America goodbye. We're... we're saving more people than losing."

The words sounded empty to Faith. No matter what truth they held, they still didn't make her feel any better.

Buffy abruptly turned away, tense. She paced down to the network of cistern tunnels, walking to the entrance of each one and peering into the depths. Her voice trembled, dew-drop like in the gloom, quieter than the human ear could hear, but picked up with ease by Faith's own:

"Is that girl... one of the sacrifices?"

"No. I know their faces. All of them."

All their faces were engraved into Faith's brain like a memorial of the dead. A list that could only get longer.

For her, the room of the Hellmouth in Sunnydale High was a room of nightmares. The mechanical, lifeless bodies of the Wiccans all sat around a crimson hexagon, pulsing with spasmodic light. The light made her think of a laboratory in a horror movie.

Buffy peered at Faith with some degree of wonder. "You're serious."

Faith snapped out of her stupor. "Deadly. We gotta report this. Dunno exactly what the whole setup means, but it ain't chance - the changeover is in two weeks. It's the best moment for them. The demons." Faith grabbed her flashlight off the ground and picked the direction they came from, intending to find their impromptu entrance and crawl out of the earth to make sure Giles and Voirrey knew. The sooner they started looking into it, the better.

"You're just going to hurry out?"

"You coming or what?" Faith said irritably. She glanced at the identical labyrinthine catacombs.

Buffy rested a hand on her hip, exhaling loudly. "We still haven't fought anything. I need…" Buffy stumbled, and stopped. Heat burned her cheeks.

"Hungry and Horny, eh?" Faith finished for her. "Deal with it later, in a cold shower."

"No!" Buffy exclaimed, setting her jaw in a stubborn line. "That's not it. I just want to beat something up. You know, bad guys?"

"Riiiiiight."

"And that has to be the best timing ever." Buffy pointed in a vague direction. "Bad guys incoming."

Voices echoed from one of the outlaying tunnels, getting louder each second. "That guy totally asked for it, y'know? He was all like, 'bite me,' which you should never ever say in front of a vamp. I mean, how retarded is that? Why don't you just kill yourself already?"

"I know. Some humans just deserve it."

Two vampires emerged out into the clearing. One was a tall, black haired male, the other a slender and beautiful auburn female. They paused and gaped when they saw Faith and Buffy hurtling towards them.

"Holy shit!" The tall male vampire yelled. Without a second thought he turned tail and fled. His female companion flinched.

"Where did everyone go - ohhhhhh…" Faith's stake plunged effortlessly into her heart.

Buffy growled and thundered after the other vampire, the noises warping in the air. Faith cursed and sped off after her.

"Buffy! What are you doing? Get the fuck back!"

The other Slayer completely blanked her and disappeared into the looming shadows, mind focused only on her prey. Something clattered onto the ground, and Faith's foot crunched on it. Buffy's flashlight.

She continued the chase. The only thing helping her keep track of Buffy was the connection they shared, which acted like a homing missile. Twice she nearly ended up short-cutting through solid wall, slipping along green moss and cracked foundations.

These tunnels were enormous. Faith wondered if they'd even be able to find their way out again. Perhaps they both held a one way ticket to hell.

Every instinct warned her against running into danger.

But she couldn't leave the blonde Slayer alone in the darkness.

"Moron…" Faith wheezed, feeling Buffy drift further and further from her. Buffy was fast, so fast... "Shoulda just left it…"

A male vampire dropped in from above, littering her with mud and stone. With a primal scream, she sent a leaden fist crunching into the vampire's stomach. Too late she realised she clutched the flashlight in that hand, and shattered it upon impact. The vampire flew back, thudding loudly against the wall. He shook himself and roared, rugby-tackling her to the ground. They rolled and scratched in the slime, clothes staining brown and soaking up damp. Faith's superior strength and enhanced fists ensured the vampire had picked the losing side. A vicious left hook knocked him out cold.

She thought about the dead girl in the main cistern chamber.

Another screech rippled through her lips. She crouched, grabbed the vampire's neck - and ripped the head off. It crumbled into dust.

The sheer savagery felt unbelievably satisfying. It wasn't enough, of course. It never was.

The girl would be dead either way.

It was a start, though.

She didn't get very far until two more vampires engaged her. They didn't talk or jeer, they just slashed in with blades glinting. Faith smelled the burnished metal, the dried blood on their lips and the sweat from their rotting bodies.

She lashed out for the shorter female's wrist and stepped in and around to twist it into a painful lock. The vampire's nerveless hand released the blade. Faith scooped it up and threw it at the other vampire, spearing him in the eye like a boar. He went down shrieking, clawing at his face.

She dusted the one trapped in the lock, and watched the one on the floor as he writhed, sensing three more vampires closing in. She knew she was in trouble. All the lessons with Voirrey and Giles flashed through her head.

_Take out the opponent as fast as you can, using whatever means you have. Don't be an idiot and take on more than you can handle._

The trio of vampires careened out of the second-to-right junction, spitting obscenities.

Faith braced herself for them. She immediately trapped the first one in a choke hold. She jabbed the second male viciously in the eye with her elbow to temporarily incapacitate him before he could use his claw weapon, and ducked a swing from one donning a leather jacket.

She spotted a sharp jagged rock on the ground and tripped up Leather Jacket, impaling him on the floor. The one she had in a choke hold wriggled free and kicked her in the guts. Vampires tended to not need breath as much as living beings actually did. Faith cringed and dropped to her knees.

_Well fuck._

She took in her situation, her surroundings, feeling the feral growl of the Slayer build up in her. She heard the thump of more vampires closing in. The Claw Weapon vampire swiped, scouring angry crimson lines on Faith's jacket. They reached right down into sinew and muscle.

_Run_. Faith needed to run. With a frenzy bordering on desperate, Faith dusted the Claw Weapon vampire, and swung the discarded claw into Choke Hold vampire's face. She finished off the two impaled on the floor, and stumbled backward as Choke Hold vampire punched her in the jaw. Her head snapped back and _thunked_ against solid stone. She saw stars, pitched forward and tripped her opponent up. He ended up rather dead from the result.

She staggered crazily up, breathing erratically. Where the hell was Buffy? Faith couldn't sense her anymore through the Slayer connection. A lurch of panic forced her to keep moving in an attempt to try and pick up the blonde's distinctive scent, to try and get away from the potential swarm of vampires she could feel humming all around her.

Another vampire skidded past her, completely ignored her and changed direction to increase the distance between them. A few bruises highlighted his face. He likely had encountered Buffy.

"Not so fast, punk!" Faith grunted and made a heroic-style tackle, landing square on his back.

She immediately realised her mistake.

The vampire tipped forward into the darkness. He tipped - and didn't stop falling. Faith fell right with him over the precipice of a shadowy edge, down into rushing emptiness. Completely blind, she could only feel the cold bite of stagnant air, the whip of acceleration in her ears and the keening wail of the vampire below her. They tussled for top position, cartwheeling over and over.

Faith's limbs jolted and her body slammed full into the vampire as he smashed into the bottom with a spine-cracking _whump_. Both lay there dazed.

Faith stirred fast, wincing at the deep slashes just above her breast, and grabbed another stake from her pocket. She pushed it into his chest and hammered it in like a piston. Her landing cushion gave way to damp rock and gravel.

She lay still for a little longer. Her muscles did not enjoy the impact one little bit.

Something warm trickled down her leg and collarbone.

"Oh hell,' she whispered.


	8. Chapter 8

Dust from the last victim drifted onto Buffy's boots. Piles of dead vampire were strewn along the tunnel, leading to her like a macabre trail of bread-crumbs. Torches flickered from their locations on the damp walls. Flames trembled in varying intensities of light, too frail to provide any form of warmth and comfort.

The vampire she originally went after had long since been converted into an immobile and decidedly less offensive form of matter; but she wasn't able to stop and turn back after finishing him. Nope. Chasing other vampires and getting carried away to the point of stupidity, however? No problem.

Somewhere along the way of the pursuit, the formation of rational thought decided to jump out of her head and go on vacation, leaving her with basic, primal urges. The feel of blood pounding through her body. A compulsive desire to hunt down prey, followed by the low kick of satisfaction from each enemy eliminated.

She had been so focused on pursuing and finishing her prey through the nooks and crannies of the twisted vampire lair, she ended up forgetting two important facts.

Don't get lost. And if you do, don't get lost alone. She failed the checklist for both options.

Gloom greeted her in all directions. Her eyes adjusted to the weak light and took in the malign scenery of the catacombs, collapsed brickworks and stained walls. The echo of bloodlust pumping in her system dwindled away, rational thought returning to fill up the gap left.

She found herself starting to regret the whole running off thing. One vampire had led to another, luring her into a frame of mind that felt like an external force possessing her. Or internal. Linked with the voice in her head?

_**In a way**_, it whispered. _**demon energy can be difficult for you pink-skins to use. It's kinda toxic to humans, but your magic men found a way to bind it. **_

_Why does it feel like this for me?_

_**Demonic energy, chaotic in nature, bla-di-bla. Slayer-y types such as yourself can learn to control it.**_

_What happens if I don't?_

_**I… don't really wanna answer that. But it's not good.**_

Buffy scoffed at the cryptic response. _Ignorance is bliss?_

_**In a word. My advice, pretty please learn to control it. Kay?**_

_Kay… _Buffy focused back to the matter at hand_. _One of her intended vampire victims had managed to escape. Admittedly, he succeeded in that difficult feat after Buffy sent him bouncing up and down out of sight down a section of collapsed wall, giving him the opportunity to dash off as near the speed of light as physically possible when more vampires engaged her attention.

Right now, Buffy could sense the remaining vampires and their extreme reluctance to go anywhere near her. They hovered on the edge of her peripheral vision, no doubt loitering for heavy reinforcements, or perhaps just waiting for her to leave the narrow confines, so they wouldn't have to funnel themselves right into her stake.

She examined herself for any injuries. The left sleeve lay in tatters. Parts of her body hurt from being punched and kicked. A purple swelling peeked out from a little tear on her jeans, just below the kneecap. A rib clicked as she breathed deeply. She flexed to pop the bone back into its normal position.

_**So… you killed quite a bunch of vamps. Impressive.**_

_Thanks,_ Buffy replied.

_**You're welcome. **_The voice paused for a brief moment. _**So on a scale of one-to-ten, how lost would you say we are?**_

Buffy rolled her eyes. She mentally outlined ten in her head, then emphasised it with red lines. She circled it afterwards for good measure.

_**I agree, **_The Inner Slayer said. _**Giving into your darker Slayer instincts and going postal is stupid. It makes you do stupid things. Like stupidly get lost in the middle of a lair full of enemies. You're stupid.**_

_Yeah, yeah, I'll learn to control it…_

A sharp twang almost took Buffy's breath away, derailing her from the thoughts. The sensation felt akin to a rubber band snapping onto her skin. Just as quickly as it happened, the invisible whip of pain vanished.

_**That's not good, **_the Inner Slayer commented.

_Random stabs of random pain? When is it ever?_ Buffy grimaced and tried backtracking, wrinkling her nose at the malodorous smells smeared over the walls.

_**That's very true. That one you got though, it came from Faith's end. And you did sort of leave her in a bad situation, what with the stupidly separating and all.**_

_Faith! _Buffy mouthed the word silently. She picked up her pace, tightening her grip on the stake in her hand. The tunnels sloped lower, twisting off into unfinished pathways and broken brickworks.

She braked at the edge of a drop, where the light from the torches promptly ended. There was no noticeable path leading down. She saw the bottom as a vague slice of darkness.

Her instincts told her to jump down. The Slayer connection tugged at her, persuading her that it was the right way to go. she heard scratching above her; a vampire in a higher level of the labyrinth trying to seek her out. She almost wished he'd find her.

Instead, she plummeted off the ledge like a brick. Her limbs tucked instinctively in the air to brace for the impact of solid ground. Turbulence clawed at her clothes_._ She landed and did a body roll, feeling the impact on her arm that she knew would turn into a huge, purplish bruise later.

Getting up, she strode a few more paces and ended up hovering over another identical drop. Again, inky blackness mocked her. She had half a mind to turn back and locate the fallen flashlight. She didn't like tumbling down without any clue as to where the fall headed. When you jumped off a cliff, you needed to see where you jumped off to, even if you did it purely for the suicide factor. Sometimes rock bottom had a lot of surprises.

Unbidden, her thoughts plunged into past experiences. Her doomed relationship with Angel. The sight of Faith peeling away from the blade in her stomach and tumbling out of sight, crashing limp into the back of a truck. The things Buffy hated to think about.

Buffy made the next drop in a bid to stop the sinking feeling in her stomach from reaching her feet. The landing barely hurt.

Now was not the time to reflect on the past. But thinking of the present made her recall Riley. Her current boyfriend. At least, current in another reality. In this world, she never even knew him. The worst part of it was that she didn't even mind. A week without him, and already he seemed like background scenery. She hated to admit it to herself, but she'd been waiting for an excuse. An excuse not to care about him. Possibly even to break up. Did this make her a bad person? Was she wrong to feel this way?

She toppled off the last ledge, air assaulting her eyes. The thump jarred her bones and she lurched into a wall, one palm digging into cold marble. Marble? She blinked a little in disorientation.

Little bumps and ridges scrawled across the surface of the sculptured marble. She ran her fingers along it, not quite able to discern what the patterns were or meant. Faith's presence hummed nearby.

_**She's hurt,**_ the Inner slayer murmured_**.**_

_Is it bad?_

_**Could be better.**_

Buffy got the impression that the pretty wall in front was actually a rather intricately designed door. The trick was finding how the hell it operated. Murals were indented into the surface all over. A faint hairline crack rimmed the wall. But there was no keyhole, no hinge, no secret coded combination lock -

The door creaked open, letting in strands of torch-light. Behind the door, a pair of unimpressed dark eyes scowled at her.

"Hi,_ B…_" The amount of contempt woven into one, single letter was astonishing.

Buffy squirmed on the spot. "Oh, hi Faith! Fancy seeing you here and all." She examined the dark Slayer in guilt, each injury on prominent display.

One brownish bruise protruded from underneath Faith's chin, and another discoloured the side of her mouth. Friction marks skidded her clothes and exposed skin. Around Faith's collarbone was a badly applied dressing, almost completely soaked in crimson. The last noticeable injury was a huge blood spot on Faith's thigh. Specks of gravel peppered her jeans.

"Take a good look," Faith snapped, voice brittle and harsh. "Every single one of these could have been stopped if you didn't run the hell off." She vindictively pointed out each area of damage.

Buffy didn't like the way this conversation was going. "Yeah, about that, I'm sor-"

Faith exploded. "You deficient? Are you a fucking moron? _Are you? _Either one of us coulda been killed when you went to get your rocks off on some vamp! What part of 'stick close' do you not understand? Hell.' Faith hissed the last words, jerking a hand through her hair. Her body trembled, either from pain, or rage, or both.

Knowing Faith from her dimension, Buffy opted for both at the same time. She immediately leapt into defensive mode. "Look, I'm sorry, I really am. I don't know what came over me, I-"

"You don't know what came over you," Faith sneered, silencing Buffy with a soul-shrivelling glare, eyes twin black holes. "Well, I'll tell you what came over you. You lost grip of your Slayer."

Faith prowled until she was mere inches away, hot air heating up Buffy's face, and prodded a finger into Buffy's chest. Buffy felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand to attention, but resisted the urge to retaliate, painstakingly reminding herself of Faith's injuries. "It's all good and gone to let off some steam. But you _never… lose… control_." She enunciated each word, fingers curling into Buffy's jacket.

The words were uncannily similar to what Buffy's own personal advisor, locked up in her head, had hinted at. Down to the stupidity.

"I'm sorry," Buffy tried again, scared to meet the brunette's eyes. Faith was impossibly close, taking up all of Buffy's vision, and maybe one wrong word would send her over the edge, lashing out at Buffy. The dark Slayer closed her eyes.

Buffy flinched when Faith's forehead touched hers, relaxing a little when concluding it wasn't a head-butt. Buffy heard the brunette's heartbeat racing at a faster pace than normal, almost at the same pace as her own. Any moment now, one of them could make a wrong move and it would retreat to blows. The Slayer connection crackled. The array of sensations the connection offered was both addictive and repulsive. Buffy found herself staring at the onyx necklace looped around the dark Slayer's neck as a focus point, confused from the erratic feelings.

Faith licked her lips. "You better be." She released Buffy. "Whatever. Cannot deal with this shit right now." Faith paced with fluctuating anger back into the dimly-lit room.

"W-what's the deal, anyway?" Buffy asked. She ruffled down her jacket so it no longer bunched up at the front. "Isn't it good to let loose on the vampires?"

Faith stiffened. "The wrong kind of people can die," she muttered.

Buffy _tched_ under her breath. "Speaking from experience?"

Faith turned, giving a bitter smile in response. "Take my word for it, twinkie. Don't let the beast loose. Don't let it take you. We done now? You not gonna run off like some fucking loon again?"

"I won't," Buffy retorted hotly. On some sort of masochistic impulse she continued, "I won't make the same mistakes you've done, anyway. You can be sure of that."

Black fury emanated from Faith now. Buffy secretly marvelled at how the brunette was even able to keep a grip on such volatile emotions. Buffy had a real talent for triggering the buttons on Faith's psyche - any Faith, it seemed. She wondered if it simply had to do with the fact that whichever reality she stumbled into, her and Faith were destined to be polar opposites; neither able to get on with the other. It was a glum possibility, and very probable, at least judging by Faith's body language. The brunette's neck vein twitched. Her face appeared impassive, made of stone.

Faith drew in a deep breath, reining in whatever she felt. "Got something to show you," she managed, eventually. "Fell down another way from you, and found something pretty bad."

Buffy filtered the tirade of words flooding her head into one syllable. "Oh?"

"Follow." Faith strode ahead, her long gait very quickly faltering into small steps. Each left step was accompanied by a faint limp.

A little worm of guilt wriggled in Buffy's stomach as she followed. The corridor opened up into a yawning clearing. The entire floor was painted with a sky-blue hexagon and illuminated by dozens of slow burning candles. The edges were inked with navy blue, and each corner had a red circle. An opaque, blood-red crystal stood in the centre, three times as tall as Buffy, five times as wide.

"Already tried breaking it," Faith informed her. "Doesn't seem to like being kicked. G-man and V need to know, cause I ain't got a damn clue what this is. Can't be anything good, though."

Buffy scrutinised the room for signs of disturbance or lurking peril. The flickering candles momentarily enchanted her with their contrast to the underground expanse. "No clue at all?"

Faith tapped her foot in agitated thought, "No, but I'm guessing that girl we saw in the chamber - there's five more just like her scattered around." She pointed out each corner of the hexagonal floor, working along with the idea. "Reckon one of those ends is parallel to her body. This is the centre." She frowned.

The image of a giant spider web threaded through Buffy's consciousness. The image of being stuck fast in the middle accompanied the thought. The bad feeling refused to go away. "You think this has something to do with... whatever it is you have in Sunnydale High?"

Faith banged a fist into her palm. "It's no coincidence. Changeover is soon." She sucked in big gulps of smoky air and coughed. Each cough caused a spasm of pain. Buffy winced to see it happen. She rummaged in her pockets for a spare dressing, fully intending to make sure Faith would not cough or bleed to death in front of her.

"Would you like some dressing? Yours is a little…"

Faith shrugged off the offer impatiently. "It's five by five. Stopped bleeding now, just looks a little worse than is." A rumbling sound punctuated the end of the sentence.

Buffy whipped her head to a wall in the far right corner now rolling open. Something drifted through, trailing shadows. It appeared to float in the air, its form a mesh of atomic particles and gas. Bright green eyes formed on what probably should have been a face. A hidden wind seemed to curl around it. Finally, it cohered into a distinctive type of demon - a black furred minotaur with huge, curling, pockmarked horns on either side of its bull-like head. It stood in the empty air in front of them, shadows swimming gleefully around its cloven hooves.

It stopped and blinked heavily when it noticed them. "Interesting," it began in a clipped, masculine voice. "How did you two get in here?"

"Fell down," Faith supplied.

"Dropped in," Buffy added. She clutched her remaining stake so tightly, that the blood thinned in her hand.

The demon gestured behind him, where a stairwell curled in the inky blackness. "I suppose it didn't occur to either one of you to use the stairs, then?"

"Wasn't aware about them, otherwise I would have," Buffy fired back. Faith rolled her eyes.

The demon smiled grimly, twisting his bovine features into a nightmarish mask. "It's been a while since I've seen a Lightwalker," he continued in his strange, lilting accent. If Buffy had to make a guess, she would have placed the accent belonging to somewhere in Europe. Her knowledge ended there, however - all Europeans sounded the same to her.

An outraged growl echoed in the vaults of Buffy's mind. _**Be very cautious with this one. He's not your average demon.**_

_I gathered that with the floaty thing. _Buffy narrowed her eyes_. What the heck does he mean by Lightwalker?_

_**He means us. He's very old, Buffy. Slayers weren't always called Slayers, back then.**_

"You Lightwalkers look so different, now. Such small, fragile little creatures…" the minotaur mused. He began to drift forward slowly. The candles beneath his feet sputtered out as he floated over them.

"Pretty sure I took one of your boys down the other week," Faith retorted, wearing a nasty grin.

The minotaur regarded her in an almost fond way. "You did, didn't you? I trust you enjoyed the little injury you sustained, as well? From the knife," he clarified, stopping in front of the gargantuan crystal in the centre.

"Didn't kill me." Faith clenched her fists, quivering with suppressed energy.

"Pity," the minotaur said seriously. "That knife was designed for your kind. Wondered why it took so long to heal?" He smirked at her shocked expression.

"I'd say, 'better luck next time,' but that'd be a lie. There won't be a next time," Faith said, regaining control of her emotion.

"Awh, cute. As amusing as it is to chat with you two, I have business to attend to." He reached out huge hands toward the crystal. Faith powered forward aggressively, channelling a leaden fist straight to his jaw.

It sailed through and past. Faith continued her momentum into empty space. The demon tilted his head in amusement as Faith tried to punch again. Buffy sprung at him from behind. Their blows went through him, whispering into air. The shadows coalesced more firmly about him. When Buffy tried once more in vain to kick him, she gasped at the icy cold sensation sweeping through her leg.

She and Faith edged backwards, disturbed. This was an enemy they couldn't hurt. They glared in bewilderment at him.

"It's a pity I can't hurt the pair of you, really," the minotaur said, mournfully. "Being incorporeal has limitations, wouldn't you say? But don't worry. We won't be like this for long." One of the green orbs representing his eyes winked.

"We?" Buffy shivered.

The demon turned his attention back to the crystal, "I'm in a good mood. Use the stairwell behind me - there's a few vampire sentries posted on top, but it's nothing you can't handle, I'm sure. Certainly a lot less than the ones wanting a bite out of you down here." He sighed theatrically. "Vampires are ever so dreary. Gullible, though. I like that about them. Tch." He began to murmur something under his breath in a strange tongue.

_**Get out.**_

Buffy could sense a swarm of vampires crawling in the labyrinth. "We better do as the furry man says," she hissed urgently to Faith.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Faith demanded of the demon, and possibly of Buffy as well. The demon ignored them. Faith tried punching him again. He blanked out their efforts, totally immersed in the crystal and the incantation pouring from his lips.

Buffy tugged at Faith's sleeve. "Let's go," she muttered.

Faith gritted her teeth, eyes bulging. A sound of strangled frustration slipped from her mouth, but she relented to Buffy tugging her along to the stairwell. They had no choice, really. The demon clearly wasn't going to respond anytime soon, they couldn't damage anything apart from knocking a few candles over, and they were on a time limit with the clumsy, fumbling auras of the vampires all around the catacombs. They only had so many sun bombs before sheer numbers would drown them beneath an avalanche of pain.

The steps of the ascent were deep and punishing. The stairwell was more suited to crawling or climbing rather than actual stepping. Twice Buffy had to wait for Faith.

Whatever front or bravado Faith put on, the injuries took their toll out of her body. The wound that had apparently stopped bleeding soaked more blood into the dressing.

Faith was not okay.

_**Best to focus on getting out for now,**_ the Inner Slayer gently reminded.

The climb took hours. Most likely it took only a few minutes, but it felt like hours to Buffy. Having to stop to watch Faith crawl up with fierce concentration dragged out the moments into an monotonous drip of seconds. Buffy knew that if she even offered to help rest Faith on her shoulder for support, Faith would snap at her or feign the state of her well-being.

Buffy reached the top and immediately went headfirst into battle-mode with the two waiting sentries. Growling, she slammed Guard One into a wooden door. The door frame splintered and crunched under their combined weight, or Buffy's weight as her vampire became slightly less alive than he normally was. Unfortunately the impact had jammed her stake fast. To her dismay, the stake crumbled along with her fallen foe. She whirled and tackled the other with her bare hands, delivering sharp, neat blows until his eyes rolled back, unconscious.

Faith emerged, clinging onto the last step as she watched Buffy stake the vampire with a broken off piece of doorframe. Faith wiped the sweat off her glistening brow. "Coulda saved me one."

"Too slow, Faithy. I'd like you to meet Mr. and Mr. Big Pile of Dust."

"Don't let it get to your head." Faith levered herself off the final step of the depressingly long stairwell.

Shouts of alarm resonated through the gap in the wall where there had previously been a wooden, oaken door. Buffy's vision began to mist over at the sight of ten or more vampires clustered into one place. Tiny beams of moonlight filtered into the room via cracks in the ceiling. They were just a few feet away from the surface.

Blood sprayed onto Buffy's face as she slashed at one vampire randomly. The victimised female vampire sprawled on the floor, wailing in pain. Buffy's instincts frothed and twitched inside her, screaming for release. Chaotic energy surged through her.

The other nine functioning foes boxed Buffy in. Faith barrelled into the fray with a roar, sending them scattering like bowling pins. Buffy snarled her appreciation and engaged in a execution of fury and primal power. The urge to resist the pull was too weak, the desire to fight too strong. She let her beast out of the cage and tore into the swathe of vampires like a forest fire, indiscriminately doling out pain. Picking the vampires off proved ridiculously easy - they all honed in on Faith. Predators liked to go for the weakest link in the chain; it made it all the more simpler to convert them into a smattering of atoms. Faith lagged, but her leaden fists and boots still packed a bone-breaking blow with every strike.

The last vampire crumbled into dust, but Buffy didn't - couldn't - switch out of it just yet. More vampires swarmed below her in the earth, just itching to get themselves killed. Her visceral mind lost all sense of reason. She wasn't behind the wheel anymore.

Faith grasped her by the shoulder. "Snap out of it, Buffy. It's over."

A choked growl came out of Buffy's teeth.

"Fucking hell," Faith swore in alarm, jerking her hand away as if electrocuted.

Buffy lunged at Faith. Faith blocked the first punch, using her quick reflexes to dodge the next few. The brunette rapidly searched Buffy's eyes, looking for a kernel of rationality in the mess of instincts propelling her on.

Buffy moved her free arm in a blinding hook. Faith ducked, expression hardening.

She grabbed Buffy by the wrist like a snake-bite before twisting and thrusting the arm upwards. If the move worked, Buffy would be crippled in a painful lock, unable to do anything. The slightest amount of pressure would send spikes of pain through every nerve.

Before Faith consolidated the hold, Buffy swivelled and launched Faith flying through the air. Faith curled and broke the fall with a roll, letting out a grunt. Buffy honed in on Faith's main injury like a shark. Faith deflected the blow before it made contact with her collarbone and staggered backwards from the force of the attack.

Faith's eyes widened from the sheer strength of Buffy's assault. Buffy snarled again and whipped her body into a spinning kick. Faith ducked into a crawl to avoid the deadly steel-cap boots. She grabbed the outstretched leg and slammed Buffy face first into the floor. Buffy got up, grinning maniacally. Her nose bled like a faulty tap. The liquid dribbled over her exposed teeth and chin. Faith's trepidation fast solidified into fear. Faith ducked and defended, the fear visibly increasing on her face and in her scent as Buffy showed no mercy in any of her attacks. She pushed on inexorably, relentlessly, seeking to deal damage with each action and reaction.

The dark Slayer knew she was fighting for her life. She thrashed out like a cornered animal, breath hissing in frantic gasps. Buffy kept up the assault, knowing her opponent wouldn't be able to block the punishing array of strikes for much longer. She could feel the shake of muscle with every hit.

Buffy held the offensive position, giving no room whatsoever to retaliate back. She dropped her shoulder to deliver a piston punch. She used too much power in the strike, though - giving Faith an opening. The brunette pounced on the opportunity and rammed her knee squarely into Buffy's stomach. Instantly, Buffy doubled over, her exposed neck rewarded with a karate chop.

She must have blacked out for a second - she couldn't remember hitting the ground again - rolling and leaping upright, straight into a waiting Faith who grabbed and choke-slammed her back to the floor. If it had been anyone else, their neck would have broken. The back of Buffy's head throbbed and she saw stars. Faith straddled her and squeezed tighter about her throat. She felt her spinal cord straining under Faith's fingers, the jugular vein pumping out painful ticks of blood, her windpipe buckling under the pressure.

Through the haze, she repeatedly punched Faith's bloody dressing, warm thick liquid bubbling onto her fist. It took six blows before Faith let go of the grip, clamping her hands over her wound, completely bereft of the ability to speak. Agony paralysed her vocal cords.

Buffy coughed, bucked and kicked to send Faith stumbling and cavorting uselessly. The brunette offered no resistance, crippled by exhaustion and mind-numbing pain. Buffy landed blow after blow onto the defenceless Slayer, the smell of victory igniting her brain.

She felt one of Faith's ribs break under the force of a kick. Faith lumbered on like a drunk, eyes glazed and unfocused.

Buffy crouched and rammed into her, the momentum flinging the brunette a short distance through the air. Faith smacked the wall. A sickening crack penetrated the violence, and she collapsed onto the floor like a heavy stone, unmoving.

Buffy went for her again.

A noise stirred in her head as though muffled by glass and thick walls. It looped with increasing urgency as she neared the fallen Slayer. Finally it burst through in a howl of noise:

_**Stop!**_ _**Buffy! Stop!**_

Buffy stopped. The fog abruptly lifted from her mind as the Inner Slayer restored her sanity. The killing urge evaporated into thin air. The Inner Slayer was right about the energy. This was a different kind of animal altogether. Something deep. Something dark, an evil saturating her veins and possessing her.

Her knees buckled and hit the ground, limbs icing over as horror permeated. She stared at Faith's prone form. Blood smeared everywhere; on the floor, on the walls, all over Faith's clothes. Buffy reached a hand towards the fallen Slayer. Blood. Blood on her hands.

A whimper of distress escaped Buffy's throat.


	9. Chapter 9

**Los Angeles, Present Day - Angel Investigations Headquarters**

Angel ran a hand through his gelled hair as he stared at the phone. It lay on the desk like a menacing black serpent, waiting to strike at any moment. He'd been seated in the office for nearly an hour now, letting his gaze wander across stacked documents on the desk and cabinets, errantly strewn pictures on the walls, and the closed velvet curtains.

He didn't have a cell phone; he was absolutely terrible with modern technology. Being 250 years old probably had something to do with it. He'd seen many things; lived through most of them. He'd also spent most of his time trying to make up for all the things his evil self had committed over the blood-strewn centuries, thanks to a little gypsy curse installing a soul inside him and riddling him with guilt.

Souls were so bothersome at times.

"Angel," Cordelia complained from her central desk seat, "Is there really any need to brood over the phone like that? It's not going to run away, and you're kind of getting on my nerves."

"It might ring any second," Angel mumbled. Cordelia propped her elbow on the desk and leant into her palm, looking unamused. She'd recently cut her hair short and highlighted it. Privately, Angel thought it made her look like a mushroom.

"I already said I'd handle it. I'm your secretary, remember? I'm not just sitting here for the fun of it. This is my actual job. Did I already mention the getting on my nerves part?"

"They should have called by now. They said they were coming over six hours ago." Angel reclined like a limp rag against the chair, ignoring Cordelia's exasperated sigh. "What could be taking them so long?"

Cordelia doodled on the bottom corner of a important-looking document with a ball-point pen. "Well, if you ask me, I guess they're probably lining up the firing squad right now."

"What? Not funny, Cordy." Angel glowered at her.

"Considering we've been withholding vital information from them for weeks, and then dropped the bomb yesterday saying; 'Yeah, we have some really bad news that we want to share with you and oh, by the way, we know about Buffy, and it's kinda our fault she's here?' Firing squad is getting off light."

"Giles didn't sound too bad when he answered. Although I think there was a moment when he stopped breathing."

"Yeah… we don't generally stop breathing like that unless we're dead, or having difficulty processing." Cordelia rolled her eyes. "God, you're so out of touch." She paused for a moment, chewing on the lid of her pen. "I had to be really careful about that annoying female Watcher, though. She seemed suspicious I knew more than I was letting on."

"You were the one who told her to rescue Buffy," Angel pointed out.

"Without telling her it was Buffy. She's not going to be happy I lied about that." Cordelia sighed, putting down the pen before she chewed it into an unintelligible piece of plastic. "PTB couldn't have vagued up the whole fiasco more."

"Mmm." Angel recovered from his slouch, feeling distinctly unhappy. His eyes focused on a little placard on the desk:

**Angel Investigations. We help the helpless.**

A white angel logo, (which from another angle also resembled a clothes hangar) embellished the statement. Angel rarely felt like his namesake. Most good guys wouldn't burn to a crisp the instant the curtains were drawn to let in sunlight.

"Mmm." Cordelia enunciated the sound. "Elaborate?"

"Nothing. Everything. I don't know. I just have a bad sort of feel about this."

Cordelia's hawk-like stare softened. "End of the world sort of feel?"

"Something like that." He dropped his gaze, unwilling to say anything else. Cordelia noticed his inward retreat with a frown and got up, organising her papers into some sort of order. Angel let his eyelids drop at the sound of rustling pages, weariness etching deep into his bones.

When Cordelia finished neatening the files in the cabinets, she announced: "I'm going to go check on the others. This office is stuffy and I need a break and I have a headache and you're most of the reason I have one. Do you know what they're doing?"

"Playing poker, last time I saw."

"Yeah?" Cordelia tucked her chair against the desk.

"Strip poker," Angel added helpfully.

"Even better." She promptly vanished out of the room.

Angel blinked a few times, before shaking his head and absently crumpling up a stray piece of paper. Now the office was empty, his mind began to wander through the thoughts that had plagued him in the past few weeks, stirred up with the introduction of the replica Slayer in Sunnydale.

He thought about Buffy Summers. He thought about the day he found her dead.

He threw the crumpled parchment into a waste bin.

It hurt so damn much.

**Four Days in the Past - Creepy Vampire Lair**

Buffy stared at her bruised knuckles. At the blood smeared over her hands, flecked over her jacket, trapped under her fingernails.

She realised she was trembling. Mostly from horror, partly from a chill that no jacket could shield from. All brain activity and electrical impulses had braked to a squealing stop. It took some time before thoughts began to re-circulate.

She hadn't meant to - she didn't - _she hadn't meant to _- it wasn't supposed to be like this -

Just a little fight. Just a spar. Her throat rattled out a choking sob, the kind only achieved by a combination of recent asphyxiation, hysteria, and the sheer freight-train force of emotions.

She fixated on the broken form of the dark Slayer in front of her. After a few seconds doing nothing, she finally stirred into action. In a second, she knelt by the brunette's side, taking even breaths in an attempt to calm down, trying to gather herself together to deal with the situation.

_**Check for a pulse,**_ the Inner Slayer commanded, in a chill tone.

Buffy swallowed and reached out. Faith's matted tresses latched to Buffy's hand as she fumbled for the prominent jugular vein. She pressed firmly, panicking because she initially couldn't feel the Slayer connection - couldn't hear Faith's heartbeat with her preternatural sense of sound.

She pressed as hard as she dared into the vein, sighing in palpable relief at the feel of life throbbing under her fingers. The connection sputtered, weak.

_**Get that wound covered up immediately. She won't need a transfusion - unless you let it keep bleeding. Slayer healing is already fighting to seal it up.**_

The voice of the Inner Slayer acted as a balm, a whisper of reason. It constantly nudged her whenever her thoughts began to veer off into the parts that offered nothing but panic.

She felt like she'd tasted the darkness. More than tasted it. She felt like she became it.

What if it happened again? What if in some crucial moment, it took her over?

What if the next time it happened, she actually killed someone?

She shuddered and prised her palm away from Faith's hair, removing the linen bandage from her pocket. This dimension was too messed up. And she had messed up. No doubt when - if - Faith woke up, their tentative relationship would be irreparable. There was too much damage, and too little provocation for it.

Seemed liked she brought her baggage across realities and let it screw everything up.

_**Your morbid self-wallowing is really starting to tick me off. Patch her and get her out of here. Now. Move it, Summers. We still have a bunch of vamps below us.**_

_But what if it happens again? The going postal thing? I don't want to risk that._

_**Keep contact with her skin.**_

Buffy shook her head in puzzlement, looking at Faith's ashen, battered face in the pale moonlight. Dust motes swirled in the stray beams around. She didn't understand what the Slayer meant, but after finishing the sloppy application of the bandage, she gently hefted Faith up, and did as advised.

The Slayer connection fluttered, the hum growing stronger the longer she held contact for. By the time she pushed through the doors of a mausoleum and opened the trapdoor into the surface, the connection pulsed vibrantly, as if leeching energy. Buffy gritted her teeth, one thought prominent in her brain. _How am I going to get out of this mess?_

**Present Day - Los Angeles - Angel Investigations**

Brooding had a few flaws, Angel decided. The phone didn't want to ring anytime soon, and just downstairs, a game of strip poker was on full throttle. He rarely joined in because he almost always won. His poker face was fantastic to the degree of total unfairness, and his experience piled up to be more than all their lives put together.

The thought of seeing Wesley in undergarments made Angel grin devilishly. Man couldn't play poker to save his life.

After a little more brain-stewing, he stood up to go. That was when the phone chose to ring. Naturally. He leapt at it like a ravenous animal and whipped the receiver to his ear.

"Yes?"

A surprised pause greeted him from the other end. "_Good lord_," Giles said. "_Barely the first ring and you answer._"

"Was nearby." Angel didn't want to admit how long he'd been loitering for the call.

"_We're about five minutes away, Angel. And I must say, I'm having a hard time adjusting. It's quite…_"

"Unbelievable? Well, that's the Prophecy at work for you." Angel rifled through the file cabinets, heading straight to _P_.

He knew it should be here, unless Wesley had removed it for some night-time reading. Angel was just convincing himself of that version of events when his eyes caught the title of a document in elegant script format:

**Prague Ascension Prophecy**

Stolen directly from Wolfram and Hart itself. Indirectly stolen, since Wolfram and Hart really didn't like anyone going anywhere near it. Wesley managed to photograph each page in the rush of confusion that nearly ended with Angel gutted and tossed out of a window. Angel filched the papers out of the sprawl, accidentally pulling others out and scattering them to the floor - Cordelia wouldn't be very pleased to see the mess later on - and held it out, running over the document for the umpteenth time. "Wesley finally managed to translate the last segment of it a few hours after we spoke to you. It's nothing but bad news."

"_Why didn't you tell us about the Prophecy and your work on it before_?" Giles pressed. "_Especially when it seems to be concerning information about, uh, Buffy and Faith in it, and the Hexagons_." Voirrey's voice could be heard in the background, grumbling at Giles. Apparently he talked loudly over the phone, being nearly as inept with technology as Angel himself. Angel's sensitive ears picked up the sound of a gear shifting in their car. He scratched absently at his hair.

"Yeah. I'm sorry we kept it from you for so long. Complicated. Complications. You get the picture."

"_I daresay_," Giles murmured, heavy disapproval in his voice. "_I'm still very curious as to how you claim you are responsible for Buffy's presence_. _I trust you will give us a full explanation rather than the cryptic message yesterday_." Angel blinked when the line went dead. He placed the receiver back on its hook, stiff as a board.

This confrontation promised to be fun. Bags and bags of it.

He headed towards the door with a light gait, winding through the building until he located the poker game.

"Hey! That's not fair!" Wesley's voice drifted, high pitched and whining. "I swear to God, you both are cheating. There is no conceivable way you could win every hand and I lose each one -"

"Yeah, yeah, suck on it, tweed," came the retort.

Angel dipped into the room. Littered about the various sofas (all pulled in close together) were clothes. Wesley wore a tie and underwear - and nothing else. Cordelia was also in the process of removing his tie.

"All in?" Faith sniggered at the former Watcher, eyes trailing lasciviously up and down his form. She still appeared remarkably clothed, and most of the chips sat on her side of the coffee table. Cordelia missed her jacket, boots and hair-band, but she also had a decent sized pot. Wesley had one single chip left.

"He's right, you know." Angel cleared his throat. "You must be cheating."

Faith swung her body around to dangle her legs over the arm of the green leather sofa. "Oh, Fang! Was wondering when you were gonna join in on the action. I'm on a lucky streak tonight. Reckon I can take you."

"Yeah, you're joining, right?" Cordelia waved her card hand at him. "Because we're really just getting started!"

Angel shook his head, eyeing the half empty bottle of Jack Daniels and the shot glasses all askew on the coffee table. He really, really hoped none of them were starting to tip the scales between sober and drunk. "Put your clothes back on. We got some Watchers turning up in a minute." He directed a stern glare at them. _Playtime over_.

"Spoilsport," Faith muttered, but flashed him a quick grin. "Barely enough time to work up a sweat."

"My goodness!" Wesley lunged at his clothes in a panic, grabbing the blue tie Cordelia lazily flicked at him. "I wasn't expecting them this soon!" He started wriggling around one the sofas for a missing sock.

"Come with me." Angel indicated to Faith. She nodded, placed her cards down and strutted to him. Angel walked through the door, swinging it open wide.

"Gallows time, huh?" she joked, following Angel out of the room. Angel didn't respond. His thoughts lingered on the damming words of the prophecy, and on Faith. Their original plan to keep the Faith affair to themselves unravelled when Wesley translated two pages worth of bad news - apocalypse worthy news. It offered key elements to help end the thing when it happened, but it didn't tell them how to prevent it from firing off in the first place.

The Prague Ascension Prophecy, if it held true, meant a lot of people would die. That was what got Angel ringing up the Sunnydale Watchers and promising to spill all the secrets.

"Angel," Faith began as they stepped into the main office, "You sure you can't just tuck me away somewhere until it blows over?"

He offered an empty chair to the jumpy Slayer. "Too late for that. They already know."

Faith's expression toughened. "Well then. Bring on the lynch mob."

Angel bent down to begin the arduous task of scooping up pieces of paper. "No one's going to lynch you. If anything, as the apparent instigator, I will be the lynched one. All the others will be semi-lynched. But you, my friend, will be lynch-less."

"You sure do have a way with words." Sarcasm dripped from the brunette Slayer. "I'm inspired."

"Hopefully you won't have to worry about it for too long, if everything goes to plan."

Faith lowered her head, staring at a spot on the floor. "Yeah. So you say."

Angel patted her on the shoulder. "As for how they'll take you… I have every faith in you that you'll be fine."

Faith looked up and rolled her eyes, but seemed unable to prevent the pleased smile creeping past her façade. "Thanks, Fang."

**Four Days Past - Giles' Home**

Buffy stumbled through the front door after placing Faith down and groping in her pocket for the keys. With shaking hands it took about four attempts before the door gave way. She cradled Faith, careful to make sure she didn't aggravate the injuries more than necessary. Turning the light on revealed a quiet lounge, with two empty mugs on the small side table. The upstairs hall-light shone. Buffy positioned the comatose Slayer gently on the sofa before creeping upstairs. Skittering anticipation fluttered in her chest.

She crept and leant against the wooden frame of Giles' bedroom for a few moments, using hypersensitive hearing to pick up the sound of his breathing. The feedback was slow and regular. Asleep. She made her way back to Faith and carried her quietly to the bathroom. The affair was awkward at best, since Faith dangled limply as dead weight.

Buffy propped the dark Slayer against the bathtub, untangling her hands from Faith's matted, sticky hair. The brunette's face was a mask of pain. Discolouration mapped her eyes, cheeks, and jaw, promising to swell more and look ugly. Buffy scrabbled around for a first-aid-kit in the cabinet, opening it up to pick through the options. After a little lip chewing, she eventually fished some clothes out of her room, which were baggy monstrosities belonging to Giles. She took off her own jacket.

Buffy didn't know where to touch. She went pale at the thought of stripping Faith off to access the damage. She'd have to see everything - every laceration, punch and kick pounded into Faith's body, every little mark inflicted.

_Suck it up, Summers._

Peeling off the clothes and taking off the linen bandage turned out to be meticulous and not for the faint-hearted. The loose flaps of skin around the clavicle nearly made Buffy throw up on the spot. Whatever injury that used to be there now blended into a bloody swathe of exposed sinew. Everything else seemed minor in comparison. Two broken ribs, the blood-spot on the thigh, bruises like rotten apples all over Faith's arms and legs. All those would heal without a problem. The clump of dried crimson at the back of her head from hitting the wall, perhaps several walls, was superficial, already sealing up thanks to accelerated Slayer healing. Faith's ruined top and jacket lay in a heap with her boots and jeans. The only thing concealing her modesty was a stained black bra and dark underwear. Buffy turned on the sink faucet, waiting for the water to go warm. She watched it swirl about, gurgling and popping until the tell-tale shimmer of steam hissed out. She plugged the bowl and dipped a hand-towel in.

She worked on the clavicle wound first, clearing away the worse of the loose skin and blood with gentle, butterfly dabs, wringing out the bloody cloth several times in the sink, and draining away the water often. All the while through the administrations, Faith gave neither a peep or twitch. The wound appeared better after the fifth attempt swabbing it.

Buffy's hands continued to wobble the whole time, but stopped their trembling when she made sure she could feel the Slayer connection through prolonged skin contact. It soothed her, somehow.

Most of the injuries appeared home-treatable, probably vanishing with a full night's rest. The collarbone wound, however, possessed a mind of its own, unresponsive in her attempts to stop it seeping. After rinsing it thoroughly in an alcohol solution, she slapped layer after layer of dressing on, hoping Slayer healing would finish the job.

The sides of the sink dribbled with crimson. The whole bathroom resembled some cult horror movie. Faith didn't react or stir or show any signs she lived at all, apart from the subtle rise and fall of her chest.

Buffy rinsed out the cloth again. She wrung it and examined Faith, vulnerable and dead to the world.

She stood there for a long time, unmoving and strangely numb, as if her limbs had weights strapped to them. She tried reaching out for the connection again, but it didn't offer as much comfort as earlier.

Buffy wasn't sure how she ended up against the wall, sliding down it. Numb emptiness morphed quickly into suffocating emotions. Tears, hot and salty, blurred her eyes, leaking out as tiny snail-trails down her face. She felt sore and bruised. Her windpipe hurt, her knuckles hurt. Everything hurt. It all damn hurt, and she didn't know what to do.

She missed everyone and everything about her own life that didn't exist here. She felt sure she had destroyed all chances of coping in this world. She wanted nothing more than to disappear or to sink into despair.

Everything was a nightmare.

Sobs echoed horribly in the confines of the bathroom, hitching and stuttering from her throat, mingling with tears and snot. She didn't know how long she cried for. Cold tiles pressed into her back.

Through the haze of misery, something prodded its way through. Warm and tentative. Fragile and strong. _Connection._

Faith's dark eyes snapped open, boring into Buffy like a pair of homing missiles. Buffy immediately stopped crying. She emitted a startled hiccup.


	10. Chapter 10

Angel knew it'd be awkward. Simply no way around it. The whole scenario reeked of awkwardness. True, Angel's gang were responsible for the whole thing, but it seemed a good idea at the time. They were driven into a corner by the PTB, bombarded with bad news as they painstakingly translated the Prague Ascension Prophecy, and tried working around the clock to solve the whole predicament.

Just when they thought they'd cleverly navigated through the problem, they ended up with another in the shape of Faith Lehane. Angel let his eyes wander over the suit wearing forms of Rupert Giles and Voirrey Saunders. Wesley and Cordelia hid out of the line of fire for now. Faith sat ram-rod straight on one of Angel's teak chairs, fidgeting nervously with the hem of her black tank-top.

She glanced quickly at Angel and he offered her a thumbs up, mouthing: _Okay? _Voirrey, on the other hand, appeared entranced and bereft of the ability of speech, attention on the dark Slayer. Giles unbuttoned his grey jacket for easy access to the inside pocket. A glass wipe poked out of it. Seconds ticked away before Giles opened his mouth.

"Well," he began. Angel, Faith and Voirrey looked at him expectantly. When he didn't appear able to continue, Angel took over the reins.

"Voirrey and Giles, meet Faith. Faith, meet the Watchers."

"Hey," Faith said, slouching against the chair.

"Uh, hello," Giles replied, taking off his glasses by reflex. Voirrey placed her hands into a steeple.

"Unbelievable," she murmured. "Preposterous."

Angel tensed, anticipating her negative reaction. The Watcher always rubbed him the wrong way on her visits.

"I know it shouldn't be so difficult to consider," she continued, unaware of Angel's scrutiny, "Since we've been running around with Buffy for quite some time…" A ghost of a smile illuminated the Watcher's thin lips. "I must ask you something, Faith. Do you have a Voirrey Saunders in your world?"

Faith moved her head to say _no._

"Hmm." Voirrey leant forward. "Another Watcher, then. It wasn't by any chance a women named Diana Dormer?"

A shadow passed over Faith's eyes. Her attention flitted from object to object. "Yeah."

Voirrey nodded as if that was the answer expected. "Fascinating."

"What is?" Giles adjusted his glasses to settle more evenly on the bridge of his nose.

Voirrey tapped her lips. "The Council debated on whether Diana or I should be responsible for Faith when she was discovered as a Potential. It was sort of a first come, first serve basis. They deduced Faith needed someone of a certain temperament to help her out, and we were the top two on the list."

Giles raised his eyebrows. "Really? I never knew about that. What happened to, uh, Diana in the end, then?"

"I believe she was assigned to a Potential in Denmark."

"Hmm. Isn't the usual procedure supposed to assign same language Watchers to Potentials?"

"Yes, normally. Most of Denmark's population has English as their second language, though, so it doesn't cause too much of a problem, If it did, there are hundreds of translators and we're not exactly short on funds. I was stationed in Kazakhstan and the Czech republic myself in the '80s, back in the early years. Of course, it was Czechoslovakia, back then…"

"Ah yes, your extensive fieldwork. How did you cope?"

Voirrey made a motion halfway between a snort and a shudder. "Not very well. Disastrous, to be perfectly honest."

"The impeccable Voirrey Saunders, disastrous?" A twinkle lingered in Giles' eyes.

Voirrey groaned. " You're going to look up the files now, aren't you?"

Giles smirked impishly, appearing years younger. "Why not? You did to mine."

Faith and Angel watched the exchange between the two Watchers with increasing disinterest. The dark Slayer straightened up when she heard about Diana being posted in Denmark, but fast became bored when the British duo veered off subject.

"So let me get this straight," Faith interjected before they risked any more spiels, "Diana in this world is five by five, yeah?"

Voirrey trained her gaze back to Faith. "Yes. She's fine."

Faith nodded, her expression tightening.

_Guilt_, Angel guessed.

Giles coughed politely, adding his own question to the mix. "You have a uh, Rupert Giles in your world, yes?"

"Yeah," Faith nodded.

The Watchers looked at each other, then at Faith speculatively. Giles clucked the roof of his mouth with his tongue. "I've a few queries for you, Faith. I'm afraid they may be rather blunt, so I'd like to offer my uh, apologies in advance."

"Whatever."

Giles ploughed ahead. "You may be aware we have your Buffy Anne Summers with us at the moment. She's been with us for nigh on two weeks, and she's mentioned some rather, uh, alarming things about you. To say the least."

Faith's eyes became flinty. Angel bristled. He knew the girl had a sinking darkness in her. The kind that saturated every pore with the stink of it, crushing the soul with guilt and self loathing.

He also knew that type of feeling never really went away, no matter how long you spent struggling against it.

Faith mentioned little of her alternate life to Angel, apart from being bunged up in prison and attempting to redeem herself the long way, just before she'd been so rudely whisked into their dimension and checked out by some very confused guards who didn't know how she ended up sharing a cell with a lifer when she wasn't on the records anywhere. The_ really _scary fact was that Team Angel never even would have realised about Faith - until they got the call from her out of the blue. Angel still sweated at the thought of _that_ potential disaster.

Her reaction when she found out she was brought along for a ride originally intended for Buffy Summers was explosive, to say the least.

"She's not wrong, G," Faith replied, lifting an arm and critically examining her black nail polish; "Hell of a time we had, together."

"That's a mild way of putting it," Giles agreed. "I also heard, and I don't think I can put this delicately - that you were in prison."

"Twenty-five to life, yeah. Killed me a couple of people." "Worried, now? I would be. I might go all serial killer onyou."

"Uh, Angel has been indicating you in a, uh, positive light, all the same."

"He has, huh?" Faith shot Angel a filthy look. "Well. Here's the sitch. I shouldn't be here - told Angel that much, already - should be locked up with the key thrown. Life's full of surprises though, right? Sure got some when big Bertha appeared out of thin air in my cell. Had a thumping great hangover, too." She scratched her head in unconscious reaction to the memory.

"Anyway. Was pretty mad about it for a bit, but shrinks in prison tell me I should deal with this sort of thing without going psycho. So, way I see it, I've been holding my shit together the past couple of weeks wicked awesome. No killings as of yet. Unless you count vamps."

Voirrey glared disapproval. "You know, that's bloody annoying."

"What is?" Faith challenged the older woman, idly examining her nails again.

"Your attitude. Your acrimonious, self-deprecating, 'I'm not good enough for anyone and I know it,' attitude. That's something the both of you share."

Faith unleashed a cynical chuckle, making Angel wince. "Angel told me a fair bit about you, V. You're all buddy-buddy with other-me, here. And she's all about the straight and narrow, fighting the good fight. Got news for you, though. I ain't your Faith. So back off."

Angel's eyes widened. _Not good_.

"No." Voirrey mirrored Faith's twisted smirk. "I'm afraid I won't back off. So tell me. What makes you so different from the Faith here, then? Since you obviously know."

Giles mouthed to the female Watcher: _What the bloody hell do you think you're doing? _

Angel wanted to ask the same thing.

Faith crossed her legs and folded her arms belligerently. "You slow or something? Or just deaf?"

Irritation twitched over Voirrey's face. "So you killed two people. Big deal. What makes you think this Faith hasn't, either?"

"Because…" Faith trailed off, suddenly perplexed.

"It happens, you know. People make mistakes. Being a Slayer, killing hundreds of demons, constantly fighting… do you honestly think you're the only one to slip up and kill a human being?"

Faith said nothing.

"A lot of Slayers are trained from an early age when they're discovered as Potentials. They get conditioned to accept losses. To understand that mistakes happen, despite all their efforts to avoid them. When you were found, it was late. You didn't have this conditioning. You were raw, wild, volatile… and damaged."

"Stop acting like you know me," Faith hissed between clenched teeth. Angel clasped his hands together. He thought he now understood the angle the female Watcher was attempting. He watched Faith for any signs it would get too much for her.

Voirrey ignored her. "All that separates you and this Faith is a series of choices and events that stems right into quantum physics. Pivotal moments, so to speak." The Watcher put up her hand when Faith began to speak. "I haven't finished yet -"

"- Don't care. You don't know me. There's nothing you can say that'll make me -"

" - _Faith here killed a man_." Voirrey's words hissed through the now quiet room.

Faith opened her mouth again, but words failed to come out. The mounting rage bottled up inside her winnowed away. She visibly deflated on the spot.

"She did?"

"Yes."

Faith stared, trying to find any hint of a lie behind the Watcher's stoic expression.

Voirrey pressed her advantage. "When you killed a man, Faith… consider this. How do you think you would have coped, if Diana was still alive? If everyone working in Sunnydale was your friend?" Voirrey paused for effect, taking sly note of the dark Slayer's riveted attention. "I'll tell you. I think you'd be remarkably like the Faith here. Exactly like her."

Faith didn't say anything for a moment. Then she let out an exasperated sigh. "Why do I feel like I'm being shrinked?"

"Possibly because you are," Giles ventured.

Faith wiggled an eyebrow at Giles, her lips demonstrating the first genuine smile since the meeting started. "She do this a lot to people she's just met, then?'

"You have no idea," Giles muttered, rubbing his glasses.

"Hem. 'She' is still in the room," Voirrey interjected.

Faith snorted, rolling her eyes up to the ceiling. She took her time to reply, gathering her thoughts together. Keeping herself calm. "Right. Let's just say all that stuff you said is true. You're saying I pretty much got the crap end of the deal?"

"Unfortunately. And that's why I find myself admiring you. You got the… crap end, as you put it. You went off the rails. But you got yourself back on track. You went into jail and you're pulling yourself together. It astounds me to consider how you even managed it, and irritates me to see the way you treat yourself."

Faith looked embarrassed. She also looked as though she wanted to be angry at the Watcher, but just couldn't quite manage it. "It ain't nothing like that. I was a screw up and Angel helped me through the meltdown. Prison kinda followed from there."

"I still think it's remarkable of you to actively try and redeem yourself in that way. You're a better woman than you know."

Another long silence.

"You really dig your Faith, don't you?"

"I do love her as a daughter, yes." Voirrey said, not bothering to hide her pride.

Faith sighed. "You really think we're the same person?"

"Naturally."

"You're on crack to think so."

Voirrey blinked at Faith for a second. Then she burst out laughing. The tension in the room promptly evaporated.

Angel exited shortly afterwards, leaving the two Watchers and Faith to make more slightly awkward but no longer frozen conversation between each other, with the excuse of picking up Wesley and Cordelia. He felt shaky, but also relieved. The furniture was still intact and unbroken. No one had tried to kill anyone as of yet. They even managed to go through an entire section of speech without cracking skulls.

Impressive.

Angel considered the whole time about the risky route the female Watcher took in the confrontation with Faith, wondering if the wily Watcher had simply lied about the Faith Lehane of this world killing a man. Certainly he'd heard nothing about any accidental killing.

"Is everything alright then?" Wesley asked when Angel motioned him away from his newspaper and coffee.

"For now," Angel replied, laconically. "It might get ugly once we start on the Prophecy."

Back in the office, Wesley greeted the two Watchers and stood by the desk, gathering his notes together. Cordelia hadn't joined them yet - instead keeping herself busy abusing the coffee machine in the reception area for everyone. Faith appeared edgy and impatient - she obviously wanted to get going soon - or just completely out of the room altogether whilst the Watchers no longer focus-fired her.

.

"So, Angel," Giles said. "Voirrey and I were just discussing; how long did you plan to keep the knowledge of Faith here secret for?"

Angel paced himself over to the desk. "As long as it took," he admitted. "I didn't want to add any confusion, and we were… hoping to find a way to send Faith back before you ever had the chance to find out."

"Send her back to jail?"

Faith perked up at Giles' bemusement. "It's not a problem, G-man. We got a world without a Slayer. Figure I should do what little of my duty I can and get back in there."

Giles paled. "Good lord, I hadn't thought of that. Of course…"

Angel cringed from the twin glares of the Watchers. "What?" He rubbed the back of his neck. "It's not my fault things turned out the way they did. These spells are tricky things, you know."

"But you did, uh, deliberately summon Buffy to this world, didn't you?"

"Well... Yes. We did. And like I said, explanations will be had."

Giles scowled, his tone accusing: "We were utterly confounded over how Buffy even arrived here in the first place. And you knew all this time."

"Yes. We knew. Summoning Buffy was our responsibility. And we will explain to you with this." Angel indicated to Wesley, who walked carefully over to the seated Watchers, passing out pieces of paper.

"Ah, these are the, uh, parts of the prophecy?" Giles raised an eyebrow in interest. Voirrey lifted up her paper selection and squinted at the elegant script, whilst Wesley started pointing out key elements in the documents Giles held.

"You obtained this from Wolfram and Hart, did you?" Voirrey moved the first page behind the others in her hands.

Angel nodded. "With difficulty. Wesley's been translating it for weeks - apparently a very strange language - he had to get some dictionary from a creepy dwarf in Budapest. Exciting stuff."

"Hungarian isn't one of my specialities," Wesley muttered.

"So uh, forgive me for asking this," Giles said. "But are you sure this is as accurate as you're able to get it, then?"

"Positive!" Wesley puffed himself up indignantly. "I've shed blood over this thing. Any errors in question are because the language used is effectively a dead one."

"I confess I can't recognise it. It looks like it follows a similar format to the eastern Cyrillic alphabet, but…"

Wesley bobbed his head at Giles' musing. "Yes, it's more archaic. I think it may be the origin of what consists to be the Slavic languages today."

"Possibly," Giles conceded. "How authentic is this Prophecy?"

Angel shrugged. "Senior partner tried to rip my guts out. So I'm betting, pretty solid."

At this moment, Cordelia came in carrying a tray of coffee mugs. She placed them by each of the Watchers and gravitated to Faith, pulling her up by the arm. "C'mon, girlfriend. We're going to leave these musty people to their musty pages and emigrate to less musty places."

"Oh, cool. You guys alright with that?" Faith asked in hopeful anticipation.

"Yes, yes of course," Giles beamed at her. "I'm sorry if the earlier conversation at any point became a little… trying for you, Faith."

"Yeah, thanks." She nodded curtly at Giles, exiting the room with Cordelia without glancing at anyone else. The female Watcher clutched her mug and sipped, unperturbed.

"So," Wesley said after the door had closed, "To business, then. Where to start…"

"Where is this prophecy mentioned? I've never even heard about it before," Giles said.

"Fair question. I believe there is a small reference to it in the Tiberius Manifesto - from what little the Council salvaged from the Vatican fire in the 15th century. But other than possibly the Czech Republic's National Lyceum owning information on these, there has been no mention," Wesley rattled out.

"So, what? Did you just break into Wolfram and Hart's headquarters and spot the documents by sheer blind chance?" Voirrey asked, puzzled.

Wesley shook his head vehemently, holding up one hand. "No, no. We were advised by a vision Cordelia received. The Powers That Be have their ways of making sure we're provided with necessary knowledge."

"I daresay." Giles finished the last of his documents, brow creased in worry.

"On the apex of the millennium solstice," Voirrey began to read out, before adding, "Is this a direct translation?"

"No, that was me phrasing the precise date for what I concluded to be our most recent incoming apocalypse," Wesley admitted with a wry smile.

"Alright. 'On the apex of the millennium solstice, the Plague of Ages will tear out of the earth, and once again, shall the inferior ones know ruin.' Right. Disaster. Apocalypse. Fairly standard and egalitarian of ancient scholars. 'Balkir, entity of law and chaos, the inferior's lone champion against the impending darkness, will be divided.' So. What or whom is Balkir?"

Wesley shrugged. "There's numerous mentions of the name. It's referred to also as the Lightwalker." He skimmed over the documents, pointing out each occurrence. "And if you observe, Lightwalker is always used in the singular form, whereas the enemy is always mentioned in the plural. Here: 'For Darkwalkers, their only known enemy is the Lightwalker, who makes up for the lack of numbers by the ability to re-instigate its strength when defeated.'

"Scholars and their prophecies are so annoying," Angel remarked. "It's like they deliberately have to make everything sound obscure."

Wesley glared at him, before continuing. "Anyway. I've reason to suspect the Blood Hexagon spell used to seal the Sunnydale Hellmouth is also used to seal the Darkwalkers. Which makes it very old. Which also means using human sacrifices for shielding has been going on for centuries."

"Ah…" Giles rustled his papers and rested them on top of his crossed legs. "That is terrible. Where is this main seal?"

"Prague, I believe. Hence the name of the Prophecy. They've obviously been keeping this fact under wraps. Surely the Council would not adhere to this," Wesley said.

"You'd be surprised what the Council would adhere to," Voirrey hinted darkly. "Something like this is quite within their moral boundaries."

"What moral boundaries?" Angel asked. Voirrey smiled thinly in response.

Giles remained silent for a moment longer, rereading the passage. "I presume the Lightwalker is the Slayer, isn't it?"

Wesley inclined his head. "Yes. There's numerous hints to it that match the prowess of Slayers. It refers to the Slayer bloodline as 'descendants.' It doesn't mention 'Slayer' outright, but the conclusion is pretty foregone. The 'Lightwalker' is the Slayer." Wesley sighed. "We probably captured Balkir or summoned its essence into the world to make up the First Slayer. It's no secret a demon soul was used. It's just a secret as to how the spell was cast."

"Fascinating," Voirrey said, her eyes brightening. "So if the Lightwalker is the Slayer, then are Darkwalkers the general demon populace?"

"Possibly. I think it's being a little more specific, though. A caste of demon called Darkwalkers, rather than the generic name for demons."

"There's still something bothering me," Giles interjected, pushing the bridge of his glasses higher up on his nose. "Assuming you deliberately called Buffy here, how did you work out you needed her from all of this? It seems a rather huge leap to take."

Angel chose this moment to jump in. "Well, we tried pulling a few strings to get the PTB to give us a bit more information, for a start."

"That can't have been easy. They're notoriously tight with their information," said Giles.

Angel grimaced. "It really wasn't." He leant against the desk, drumming his fingers on the edges. "They don't generally like dealing out information. But in this case, they had to. It turned out, something happened in this world that wasn't supposed to happen. Wes can probably explain it a little better than me."

"What's there to explain? Buffy here wasn't meant to die. At least, permanently. She was scheduled to fall, enough so the Slayer line would jump to the next - but she needed to come back, as well. That's what this prophecy refers to." Wesley quickly went to fetch the dictionary he had obtained from the Hungarian dwarf to show Giles.

"Balkir is the Slayer essence," he continued, after giving the book over. "And for whatever reason, there has to be two Slayers when this apocalypse occurs - and one of them has to be Buffy. When we were told that... naturally, we started looking at ways to circumvent her, ah… death."

"And so you decided to borrow a Buffy," Voirrey finished.

"What else could we do?" Wesley defended himself. "The Powers That Be were adamant it needed to be Buffy. They didn't tell us outright how to solve the problem... but they were confident we could."

"Your little tryst jeopardised the dimension Buffy came from, however. Their world is without a Slayer," Voirrey growled.

"Well, there's the thing," Angel shrugged, helplessly. "We did the spell specifically for Buffy after spending weeks chasing up ingredients and leads. We weren't expecting to get Faith as well."

Giles furrowed his brow. "Well, from what you've described to me of the spell over the phone, what you did was effectively call the Slayer essence of Buffy into this world. Bear in mind, this same essence is in Faith, too."

"Oh!" Wesley punched his palm in sudden realisation. "Of course! Why didn't I see that? Predict that?"

"Because you're a ponce," Giles muttered.

The Watchers continued discussing elements of the prophecy, leaving Angel to drift off.

He really wanted to see Buffy, but he knew he'd be deceiving himself. Even if this one acted exactly the same in every way - the same smile and style and mannerisms - his Buffy was long dead.

The curse of being a Slayer. It took away people when they were still young. Girls, hardly more than teenagers, thrust into the boiling pot of good versus evil. No wonder the death rate was so high.

"-So you're sure there isn't much we can do, then? Just sit here, twiddling our thumbs until the disaster starts? Most prophecies have at least a counterpart or method to prevent it," Giles stated hotly. "But this… for all the fancy wordplay it contains, it basically says the apocalypse will happen, but if we're lucky we'll stop it from destroying the entire world. That's not entirely reassuring."

"It's why we're in the process of planning to go to Europe," Wesley replied. "Go right to the source of what's going on."

Voirrey closed her hands into fists. "Reasonable. Are any of you fluent in Czech or Slovakian, then?"

"Passing knowledge," Wesley said.

"Got nothing," Angel wandered back into the conversation. "I mostly roamed western Europe, back in."

"Well, from my excursions into the Czech Republic, I established a few contacts. I know a good native guide - if he's still alive. He's a retired member of the National Lyceum. They call him _Vllk_ in his tongue, or _wolf_."

Wesley beamed. "That would be useful, thanks."

"When were you thinking of setting off?" Giles asked.

"As soon as we can," Angel affirmed.

"And...?" Voirrey flicked her gaze over to the closed office door.

"Faith wants to come," Angel said, instantly guessing Voirrey's line of thought. "She doesn't want to cause confusion here. We figured to keep her away from Sunnydale and just focus on returning her."

Giles buttoned up his jacket. "Fair enough. It makes sense then to probably not inform the Sunnydale group about Faith's presence here. Do you think you will be able return her back to her dimension?"

Wesley looked dubious. "Hopefully. But thanks to your revelation, we'll have to make sure it won't return Buffy at the same time. We need her, Giles."

Voirrey nodded. All of them paused, taking stock of the strange events of the meeting, and the impending news of the apocalypse.

"I'd like to have some words with Faith later, though," Voirrey added.

"Good luck with that," Angel said, grinning.

**Four Days Past**

The first thing Faith noticed: searing pain. The second: Buffy Summers standing in front of her, white as a sheet and holding onto a bloody rag. Other things assaulted her sensory perceptions. _Cold. Bright white Bathroom. The smell of rust. The taste of blood._

Faith bared her teeth and jerked forward, fully intending on gripping her fingers about the blonde's throat and squeezing indefinitely. Their desperate fight still played out with vivid clarity in her mind. Everything up to a sound like a whip cracking, and her falling, tumbling into darkness.

"Holy shit,' Faith hissed, eyes popping at the fresh dosage of pain spiking her system. Buffy's face blurred out of focus. With a groggy shake she regained clarity, taking short, sharp breaths to control the mounting rage.

Buffy's mouth opened and closed. She opened it again to finally whisper Faith's name.

Faith narrowed her eyes into slits, a hiss escaping her mouth. Anger crashed into her, the pain and helplessness steering her into dangerous waters. _Goddamnit._ She needed to reign it in. These feelings would solve nothing. She wasn't that girl, anymore. At least, she tried not to be. Sometimes she failed.

Her head lolled and took in the view of her semi-naked body and the numerous contusions decorating her arms. Her collarbone and pretty much the entire upper torso was swathed in bandages, with a bulge of around four layers of dressing clapped over the wound. She felt like a mummy being prepped for a tomb. Her eyes shifted, noticing thin lines of crimson streaked along the sink bowl.

"I-I should take you to a hospital. I don't think this is working."

"No hospitals"' Faith rasped. Bitter words laced the tip of her tongue, fighting to make themselves heard.

_**Faith, **_the Inner Slayer rumbled; _**Play this cool. **_

_Newsflash: bitch tried to kill me. _

_**Newsflash: bitch brought you here and patched you up. **_

_Newsflash: Don't care. _

_**Newsf- oh, come on. This is stupid. You're stupid. You know full well what the fuck is going on with her. I mean, it's not like you went through it yourself or anything.**_

Faith inwardly flinched. _Shut. The. Hell. Up._

_**Don't screw this up, then. **_

Faith banged the back of her head against the bath-tub, blocking all visual stimuli. _Too late, _she thought bitterly. She breathed deeply, slowly.

"Faith? Are you awake?" Feathery fingers brushed her shoulder. Faith focused on the tenuous Slayer connection between them, not trusting herself to speak. With the state of her body and mind, she was at the other Slayer's mercy.

The same one responsible for this mess in the first place.

_Bitch should go to hell for this _- Faith reined in the venomous thoughts, reminding herself that the situation wasn't completely Buffy's fault. After all, Faith spent hours meditating each day when she first became the Slayer. Committed weeks of training in order to suppress the demonic instinct inside her to something manageable. She still needed to meditate daily. It wasn't easy, sharing your body with a chaotic hell spirit. Humans struggled with the pressure it exerted. Often or not, without rigorous attention, a Slayer went mad, regardless of the assistance the sentient part of the spirit provided.

All power came with a price.

Something lukewarm and wet slid its way over her brow and it required every ounce of attention to keep still. A calloused hand levered her head forward for easier access. Cleaning her? Reviving her?

The Slayer connection fluttered tentatively, like a butterfly settling on a flower. Buffy hesitated, before retracting from Faith's proximity, taking the permeating stench of the sewers with her. Water sloshed and hissed. A migraine stirred in the back of Faith's head, and her eardrums pounded in insistent response. The dizziness fluctuated between intense nausea and mild disorientation.

Faith allowed the administrations to continue whilst pretending to be out cold, finding it a mild laxative on her rage. Buffy touched her like an apology with every dab of cloth and application of dressing. Minutes trickled by, the sensations and the gentle touch of the Slayer connection lulling her mind into a light doze of disconnected images.

When the cloth pressed against her upper thigh, Faith opened her eyes to see Buffy leaning down, tangled hair concealing most of her face as she washed the blood-spot. Faith set her jaw in a hard, determined line, a bitter taste in her mouth. The anger she thought she'd successfully chased away injected back into her system. Again, she attempted swallowing it. She winced when Buffy pressed firmly on her collarbone.

"That hurts," she whispered. Buffy halted and looked up, revealing a dirty, tear-streaked face and wild eyes. She immediately began to draw away - until Faith grabbed her wrist to prevent escape.

"Seem a little nervous, B. Something you hit?" Faith hissed. Buffy stared at Faith's hand, then back up to match gazes.

"I'm sorr-"

"Don't apologise." Faith flexed her hand, increasing the pressure on the smaller Slayer's wrist. "Won't solve nothing. You dug your damn grave, bitch."

Buffy's mouth hung open in a stricken expression. She ignored the dig of nails into her flesh. "So what do you expect me to do, then? 'Cause apologising was pretty much all I had."

"No idea." Faith's voice cracked; "But I'm all kinds of pissed off with you at the moment. Ya banged me up good." She allowed a vindictive sneer to creep on her face.

Buffy gasped and attempted to break the grip with force. Faith let go before the strength strained her muscles too much, watching the blonde topple onto her elbows with a thud, before scrambling onto her knees.

"Oh…" Faith tilted her head to the side, a sneer twisting her lips. "Got yourself pretty trigger happy in the tunnels. All that stuff you said about the other me… didn't realise that stuff was enough to _murder_ someone over. Guess I didn't get the memo."

"Stop it!" Buffy demanded in a shrill voice, panicked.

"How much did you enjoy it?" Faith pushed, "Beating me up. Spilling all that blood. Did it make you feel good? Did it? _Was it worth it_?"

Buffy clenched her fists and involuntarily jerked forward as if about to punch Faith. "What the hell is wrong with you, Faith?" She hissed. "Do you want me to lose it? Are you suicidal?"

"Hey, B, playing with a full deck here; dunno about you. You seem eager to hurt me. How hard is it to restrain yourself? Don't you just wanna..." She mimed a punch, "_Ugh_?"

"What kind of insane troll logic are you using?" A tear slithered down Buffy's face, followed by more oozing out of the corners of her bloodshot eyes. "Everything's been going wrong since I came here, and then there's _you_, and I didn't know what to make of you at first, but now I do. You're just as psycho as I thought you'd be. You're just as evil -"

"-You did enjoy it, didn't you? Can't exactly blame ya, Summers." Faith's smile was cruel. "Throwing down with the vamps ain't enough, right? Nope. But that's where I come in. 'Psycho' Faith. 'Evil' Faith." She leant forward, her breath tickling Buffy's ear. "Cause you look at me, but you don't really see me. Oh no. You see _her_. And when you lose control of your Slayer, you have the perfect excuse to kill…"

A strangled shriek stuttered out of Buffy.

_Crash!_

Buffy's fist lay buried in the bath-tub, inches from Faith's head. The blonde's jaw jutted out in animal fury. It very quickly became agape in horror and fear. Faith breathed in silent relief, the fury gone as if a bucket of ice-cold water had been dumped on her head. Buffy yanked her fist out of the bath-tub, taking a chunk of plastic with it and revealing large scratches all over the knuckles. She bundled her hands to her face, her body convulsing in sobs.

Faith watched the blonde completely break down, examining Buffy's dirty, puffy face writhing with bewilderment and panic.

_What am I doing? What the hell am I fucking doing?_

_**Screwing up. As usual.**_

"Awh, crap," Faith cursed, unsure of how to deal with the situation, and hating herself for causing it. _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_ "Stop being like that. Stop, uh, crying, okay? Hey? C'mon." She awkwardly patted Buffy's shoulder.

Buffy emitted wavering sobs, her body shaking as though being ripped apart from the inside. "I want to go home," she whispered, fingers curling over her eyes.

Faith scowled in confused frustration, at a complete loss for what to do. Half of her wanted to punch Buffy back for the near miss with her head and the bath-tub. She glanced at the jagged hole. Maybe more than half. The rest of her knew that approach wouldn't work. Couldn't work.

"Hey," Faith murmured, hoping her tone sounded calm and soothing. She moved slowly, the effort causing personal discomfort, and prised Buffy's hands away from her face. The action startled Buffy into silence. "Ssh, ssh," Faith encouraged, intertwining their fingers together. An incredulous expression wrought over Buffy's features. Her red-rimmed eyes fixated on their interlinked hands. The Slayer connection jolted through them. They remained in the same position for a moment.

Then, without really being aware she did it, Faith began to rub the top of Buffy's knuckles with her thumbs. "Hey. It's okay." Faith inhaled, fighting for words. "I uh, got a bit mad. You know. Nearly get killed by you. Wake up with aches in all the wrong places - makes a girl cranky."

Buffy raised her wet eyes to greet Faith, the incredulity softening. Faith couldn't help but think what a mess she looked. Buffy's blonde tresses hung limp like wet ropes, and her face was swollen and streaked with dirt and tears. Slime tainted her clothes. Faith in comparison appeared sterile clean.

"Thinking we better get you washed up, too. You look about ready to date a zombie." Faith kept talking, still circling Buffy's knuckles, picturing the blonde as a terrified animal in need of comfort. Buffy was unstable. She was on meltdown, and had just recently lost control of her Slayer. Never a nice experience. So, because Faith was sensible like that, she went ahead and pushed the little red button labelled: DO NOT PUSH.

But hey. Blood loss did strange things to a girl. So did rage, injuries, and concussion. Try thinking straight with _that_.

Buffy's breathing slowed, and her heaving movements lessened. Just when Faith felt like they were finally getting somewhere with the whole calming down thing, Buffy's expression crumpled again, more tears leaking onto her cheeks.

"The hell now," Faith muttered, darting a tongue out to wet her parched lips. Buffy raised one of their wrapped up hands to wipe a tear, freezing when Faith grimaced.

"Hey, watch it. In pain over here."

"S-so…" Buffy hiccupped, her nose starting to run and her words contracting.

"Jeez." Faith gritted her teeth and pulled the blonde as close as she dared, let go of one hand, and snaked her arm slowly around Buffy's back, all the time making sure Buffy knew her intention.

_What the hell am I doing?_ The whole scenario was spiraling out of control, and not in the way Faith imagined, at all.

Should she be angry? Should she be sorry? Hell.

Now Buffy had received the hint Faith didn't want to sucker punch her into next week or rain more callous words, she allowed herself to relax in Faith's embrace - and promptly wail harder.

_Is this supposed to happen?_ Faith fretted, now palming Buffy's shoulder blades in a clockwise motion, hoping the massage would calm her down. Being no expert at this kind of thing, and definitely not being much of a touchy-feely kind of girl, she soon stopped and just rested her hands gingerly on the blonde's back.

_**Yes. You're doing just fine**_, the Inner Slayer purred.

She gave the Inner Slayer a mental: _up yours!_ and concentrated on the shell-shocked blonde partially buried in her shoulder. By now, Buffy had completely stopped crying altogether, but still maintained the close proximity, reluctant to increase the gap.

The silence carried on.

And on.

"So," Faith said, in an attempt to break the forming layer of permafrost. "On a scale of one to ten… how screwed up do you think this whole thing is, right now?"

Buffy tensed, as though hauled out of a daydream. She mulled over a response. "Uh… very?"

More silence.

"I'm gonna…" Buffy began, shifting her body.

"Yeah," Faith agreed, letting go.

They stared, gauging each other's expressions and body language. Faith somehow knew that Buffy wouldn't talk until she did. Something about the set of her jaw, the downcast shadows over the blonde's eyes, the defeated and submissive pose of her body.

Yup. This ball was in Faith's court. Her words held power. Faith glanced at the discarded cloth staining the floor, and the dried blood on Buffy's hand from clutching it.

Faith narrowed her eyes, considering the options.


	11. Chapter 11

**Present Day**

Sunlight streamed in through the open window. Buffy sat in an armchair, listlessly staring into space. Recently she'd been wondering about her mother. Giles assured her Joyce lived in Florida, recommending on the same vein not to make contact. Buffy agreed, but felt homesick more than ever. She didn't belong in this world. Not as a living ghost for the people who knew her to be dead, where she struggled to cope in the only way she could, when everyone else had moved on with their lives. Faith, of all people, fronted the fight between good and evil.

No one needed her.

Buffy's eyes roved around the spacious living room, and a stray beam of sunlight dazzled her from a vase on a table. Withered forget-me-nots sprawled out in it. Squirming around a little, Buffy rested her chin against her palm. Although revisiting the vampire lair in broad daylight a few days earlier, they found nothing of importance. The lair was abandoned. Only dust and blood remained of their experiences down under.

Willow walked into the room, munching on a stick of celery. She beamed at Buffy and plonked herself down on the adjacent armchair, gesturing with her index finger to the ceiling.

"Faith's stolen my girlfriend. I resent it."

"Is that so?" Buffy snapped to attention, focusing on the carbon-copy of her best friend. "I thought the two of you were permanently attached to the hip. It's cute," she added, seeing Willow's expression fall.

"You think so?" Willow said, brightening.

"Of course," Buffy assured her. "Although sometimes it gets kinda embarrassing. Remember when we went shopping the other day? We were trying on shoes and Tara wanted to try on a dress and she asked you to come into the dressing room to help do up the zip? Well, you guys took a really long time to do it. Criminally long."

"We uh, did, h-huh?" Willow suddenly found the floor very interesting.

"A really long time…" Buffy leant forward, grinning mischievously. "I sat there and put on shoes, wondering when you two were going to come out, or whether, say, some demon had eaten you or something. So. Why did it take ten minutes to do up the zip again? I'm all ears. Two of them."

"You never said anything," Willow accused, still fixated on the floor. "You were all, 'look, guys! Don't I look killer in these!' And parading about in those awful heels. You never said anything!"

"Well now, I couldn't shame you two in front of the customers, could I? Even I was a little uncomfortable, thinking about it. But between you and me, the cashier was totally onto it." Buffy tapped her nose conspiratorially.

Willow dipped her head down until her hair completely covered her face. "Oh, Goddess." She glanced up, fanned at her cheeks, and changed the subject: "A-anyway, what brings you here so early, Buff? You're usually a lot later."

Buffy held up her hands. "I didn't have much else going on today. Giles went off somewhere. He left me a note on the fridge, and he really couldn't have vagued it up more."

"Oh! I know about that. Buff. Giles and Voirrey went to LA to see Angel and his goonies to, I think, check up about the stuff you guys discovered." Willow rattled off the information with aplomb. "They were a little hazy on the details, but Angel's lot stumbled upon some stuff as well, and they wanted to share."

"How about that, huh?" Buffy said, heart lurching slightly. _Angel. _Angel still functioned in this world. How strange to hear his name. She'd be lying to herself if she never thought about him, but the version of him in this world never loomed large in her consciousness. Something felt forbidden - wrong - about it He was as off the grid as her mother. "That explains it, then."

"Lets hope they come up with some good leads." Willow patted Buffy's wrist and took the celery stick out of her mouth, chewing on the remaining pulp. "I'm not too keen to revisit those tunnels."

Buffy tapped her knee. "Wasn't it really odd that they were totally empty? I mean, when Faith," Buffy hesitated briefly, before plunging on, "When Faith and I went down them, they were everywhere. The vamps were practically crawling out of the walls, and the freaky cow guy controlled them."

"It's odd," Willow agreed. "Maybe they cleared out after their hidey hole was compromised. We should find out what they're up to, but I think Faith might hurt us if we get into the action before she recovers, though. So maybe we're lucky we didn't see any vamps." Willow perked a grin.

Buffy copied the expression. "Have you seen Faith yet?"

"Yes - before Tara went," Willow replied, mournful. She put her stripy-covered feet up on the settee. "At least we've not been sent on any errands this time."

"Huh? Errands?"

Willow gave a long-suffering sigh. "Whenever Tara and I come here, Faith makes us fetch her junk food, films, comics, and other random stuff in this wheedling tone. But she does it with such a sweet little smile and with droopy big eyes…"

Buffy's eyebrow shot up in amusement. "Faith? Sweet? Are we on the same page here? Are we even reading the same book?"

"I know, right? But she does it."

Buffy's stomach did a few flips in guilt as Willow reached out to clasp her hands appreciatively. "I know you must get tired of me saying this, but thank you for saving her."

Buffy only nodded mutely in response.

They sat in amiable silence for a few moments. Buffy examined the redhead, wrestling with a profound mess of emotions.

Willow drew Buffy out of her mindscape with more snippets of conversation. They flitted from topic to topic as Tara exercised her healing gifts on Faith upstairs.

"It's tricky magic,' Willow admitted, finishing off her celery before explaining more; "Tara can manage it better than me. It's very subtle stuff, very advanced. She says she'll teach me all these cool spells. I can hardly wait!" Willow kicked out her legs in uncontrollable excitement. "Wouldn't that be awesome? Healing people without a doctorate, or years and years and years in University."

Buffy automatically found herself cheering up upon hearing Willow-Babble. Willow really was adorable, whatever version she happened to be. The redhead put very little demand on Buffy and seemed to take it in her stride to re-befriend, spending many hours in the past three weeks just talking and enjoying her company, helping to ease Buffy into a strange alternative of her own world. Tara offered the same thing, although she appeared more quietly confident than Buffy ever recalled. Maybe this version of Willow's girlfriend was. Xander and Anya didn't seem to be involved much with the gang affairs anymore, so Buffy didn't know what to make of them. According to Willow, Xander became a little more distant and withdrawn after Buffy's death.

It kind of made sense. He'd been deeply infatuated with her, back then. He tried once to ask her out. He didn't enjoy the rejection.

"Willow? Sweetie?" Tara called, her feet creaking on the stairs as she searched for her girlfriend.

"I'm in the lounge!" Willow waved as Tara emerged, looking tired but pleased.

"The session went well," Tara said. "Her wound's sealed up now, and the internal bruising is gone. But I'm going to need to rest for a couple days to recover."

"You're working hard, Tare-baby." Willow reached out to her girlfriend, and Buffy averted her eyes from the tender moment.

"Buffy said we were noticeable in the dressing room the other day," Willow mumbled into Tara's neck. In response, Tara shook with suppressed laughter. She kissed Willow's forehead and gave Buffy a wink.

"Faith wants to see you, now."

"She does, huh?" Buffy swallowed.

"I'm glad you both are getting along better," Willow piped up. "You both seemed a little frigid. Frosty. Icy. Something not involving… heat." Willow buried herself deeper in Tara's neck.

"Frigid is about right," Buffy agreed, placating the redhead, "Offence is not taken."

Tara poked Willow a few times until the redhead creased her brow up in a mock frown. "Stop doing that."

"No," Tara said, face twisting into an expression of mischief.

Buffy laughed, giving them both a fond look before working her way up the stairs.

Opening the door, Buffy felt her innards curl up into an snarly knot. Faith flipped through a comic book, not appearing to acknowledge Buffy's presence. Buffy moved into the room, and sat on the chair propped by the brunette's bed. A glass of water lay on the dressing table. The almost closed curtains allowed thin slivers of day to dapple the room.

Silently, Buffy stretched out her fingers until they rested on Faith's arm.

"What Tara said is true," Buffy murmured. "You've healed so fast."

Faith raised an eyebrow at the physical contact but made no comment on it. "Not the first time Tara's had to patch me up. Practise makes perfect."

Buffy made a non-committal sound in response and sat there for a little while, indulging in the peculiar sensation of the connection that came with skin-to-skin contact. She didn't know what to make of the sensation. All she knew was that in a way, it helped in dealing with Faith.

"Tara reckons I'll be out and about tomorrow." Faith turned the page of her comic book. The material rustled and scratched. "You been practising?"

"Yeah. Two hours, today."

"Good. Sooner you control yourself, the better. I'll be well enough to help out later."

Buffy felt doubtful. "You're alright with that? I mean… I did kind of do stuff to you. And I don't really wanna risk something like that again." Buffy peered at the pictures the brunette stared so intently at, recognising the iconic figure of Batman.

"You need help. Think I'm best qualified to give it. You ever have the Cruciamentum?" Faith flipped another page.

Buffy frowned at the odd question. "Uh… Yes - they stripped me of my powers and made me kill a vampire." The Cruciamentum was the main reason she and Giles split from the Watcher's Council. Why would Faith bother asking about it?

Faith glanced sideways sharply. "Huh? That don't sound right. You sure you thinking of the same thing?"

"I'm certain. Every Slayer for years went through it when they reached eighteen. Some sort of survival test to prove they were a good Slayer. Most of them died. It was a stupid thing to do. Cruel."

Faith sat quietly in brief thought. "Don't like the sound of your Council dudes, much."

"What's the Cruciamentum like for you lot, then?" Buffy asked, assuming the process worked differently in this dimension.

"Uh, Cruce for us lot is getting jabbed. Helps on controlling the power better. Gives us more control."

"That sounds really weird. Do they suppress your power or something, then?"

"I guess?" Faith furrowed her brow, as if she had not considered the possibility before. "It helps a lot. Before, I could barely stop myself going batshit in a fight. After, it got much easier to handle. Still needed to meditate and stuff, but it was of the good…?" She trailed off, obviously perplexed.

Buffy's mind began whirring like a machine, connecting dots. Before being locked in the building with the vampire, Buffy got an injection which suppressed her powers. Here, apparently the injection, or a injection, still happened. But this was to help control the chaotic energy that threatened a Slayer on a daily basis. So it was good. Necessary. Faith could fight, and kill demons with ease, without having to worry about losing sanity.

But then again, why was Faith so much weaker than Buffy?

Faith processed through the same dilemma. "You think they really mighta suppressed my powers? For real?"

"I don't know," Buffy said, unwilling to speculate. This was far beyond her comfort zone to discuss. She didn't know where to even start. Faith looked alarmed and concerned.

"It can't be. We're different body types. Maybe being a Slayer depends on that or something."

"Yeah. That may be it," Buffy answered slowly. That was Voirrey's explanation. Voirrey Saunders. Member of the Council.

Buffy understood Faith's dilemma. The brunette must have honestly never thought that her powers were somehow dampened, made weaker. And why not?

It wasn't like she ever had another Slayer to compare to.

"Shit," Faith hissed, gripping the comic book tightly until it creased. "…I never even…"

"Well, we don't know for sure," Buffy said, nervous at the fluctuating emotions flaring up in the brunette. "We don't know - I don't anything about this stuff. Just ignore me, yeah?"

The dark Slayer breathed deeply a few times, staring down at Buffy's touching hand. It took her a while to respond. "Maybe. But you're much stronger than me. So can't help but think…"

"Um… If it didn't bother you before, uh, why bother you now? I mean, you're Slaying fine as far as I can tell and stuff." Buffy blinked rapidly as she muddled through the statement. Was she actually trying to comfort Faith?

Faith nodded. "Right." She stared at the wall.

Taking a risk, Buffy crept her hand onto Faith's and gave it a squeeze, hoping Faith would not perceive the gesture as condescending. It felt strange, actually. Being friendly to the brunette. Being caring.

But it also felt right. And appropriate, considering Buffy was the devil's advocate for tricky questions.

Just as Buffy decided upon changing the subject, Faith let go of the comic book, tilting her head. "Well, lookit you. Holding hands with me."

Buffy flushed. "Don't make me withdraw the friendly."

The brunette smirked. "Not teasing ya, B. Just saying. Pretty sure a couple of weeks back you'd rather make fists at me than hold me. You did succeed on getting me in bed, though."

Trust Faith to make even a simple statement sound like an innuendo, Buffy thought sourly. "Progress. Baby steps. Plus you were kinda nice to me after the whole lair thing."

"Only 'cause I felt like a little shit for making you cry."

"Hello? Homicidal Slayer here. You had a right to be pissed off."

"Homicidal and stronger Slayer. I know," She sighed at Buffy's exclamation, "But you got the cat outta the bag. Just can't let the idea go."

"For the moment, then?"

Faith wrinkled her nose. "Guess so." She fell silent. Then she channelled a hard stare, until Buffy was forced to look away.

"What's with the eye daggers?" Buffy said, attention on the window.

"Cause I don't know what to make of you, Buffy _Anne_ Summers."

Buffy twitched, uncomfortable. She got nervous when people used her full name. Her mother did the same thing whenever she prepared for a scolding. She resisted the impulse to reflect the statement back at Faith. "About a hundred and fifty so centimetres, blonde, good looking?"

"Snark and ass beating aside, still angry 'bout that by the way; gotta ask: what the hell is ticking in your skull?"

"Come again?"

Faith licked her lips, rearranging the thoughts in her head. "What do you see when you see me?"

Ah. So it was going to be like that.

_**Did you expect anything else?**_

_Shut up._

"I…" Buffy began, then stopped.

_Faith sneering as Buffy drooped against her chains, the brunette's white teeth flashing in the grungy, dilapidated crypt._

She shook her head as if it would rid her of the memory. Unfortunately, it only encouraged more to crash unbidden.

_Face contorted in rage as Faith pounded her in, wearing Buffy's own body from the unexpected switch. The self-loathing in her borrowed eyes._

"I see pain," Buffy replied. "A reminder of it."

Vague as the explanation was, Faith accepted it with a nod, steering clear of any more personal questions. This surprised Buffy. Surely the brunette was brimming with curiosity. If some doppelganger of herself existed, Buffy would want to know the little differences about them, too. Hell, she'd be drilling them out.

What really floored Buffy though, was the next sentence to escape the brunette's lips.

"I'm sorry for what she did to you."

It came out so unexpected, that Buffy lost track of whatever thoughts floating in her head. Stunned and flustered, she focused on the white duvet in front, and all the lumps and uneven wrinkles rippling across its surface. Faith's legs created an even bridge underneath.

She nearly jumped when Faith subtly began kneading her fingers into Buffy's shoulder, attacking the points of tension corded all the way over it. Their connection tingled. Soupy thoughts floated in Buffy's brain, giving her a welcome distraction from all the bad news and screwed up events happening to her in the space of two-to-three short weeks. Concentrating on the hand touching her, Buffy felt even more bewildered.

Faith. Comforting her. Faith with the rage and the hurt and the apology. Apologising for the other Faith, when Buffy distinctly recalled shutting the other one down when she attempted the same. Surreal situation, much.

Buffy didn't mind this apology, however. Why didn't she mind? She thought about it for a bit, wondering the _whys _to the best of her ability. She never exactly had any warm, fuzzy feelings for the brunette. But something always lingered in their meetings, bad and good. Something unclear.

_Faith running out the church, after their bodies had switched back. Buffy watching her run. No rage. No hate. Just regret._

Regret.

It was as though light flared up in her brain.

"You know what?" Buffy blurted. Faith's hand stilled in its ministrations.

"What?"

"I like this. It feels like I'm getting along with you." Buffy absently ran her hand along the bumps on the duvet cover, smoothing them out. "That never really… happened."

Faith didn't respond for a moment. Then her hand started working again. "Go on."

"Maybe… I didn't do enough." Buffy hesitated. Faith's hand seemed to silently encourage her. And in a twisted kind of way, she was the exact person Buffy needed to talk to. Licking her dry lips, Buffy continued. "She was always a little distant, from us. Or maybe we distanced her. There were times when I really liked being with her. I sometimes wonder what might have happened if we - I - tried harder. Maybe I gave up too easy. But she made it so easy to hate. God. I hated her."

Faith tapped Buffy and helped her adjust her position until she faced Faith. The brunette's gaunt face stared at her, fathomless. Faith's dark hair, scraped back, made her appear unassuming and vulnerable. Her eyes however glinted like onyx.

"What do you want to know?"

Buffy's gaze wandered over the brunette's full lips, over the cleft, over her pale face. "I'm, I - I'm not sure."

Faith pursed her mouth. A tic pulsed under her jaw. "Think I got a pretty good idea."

Buffy tilted her head, curious at the peculiar change in Faith's tone.

Faith wrestled with something. Her mouth closed and opened a few times, barely parting her lips, before she drove on. "Picture this. Nothing in your life is under control. Your mom's a drunk. Dad's never there. You're forced to the streets cause your mom never has the time to look after you. People use you. Guys fuck you and leave you, no one gives a shit about you. So you become a little fucked up in return. Can't trust anyone because they'll always fuck you and leave you. Now you're using people. Soon you're convincing yourself that maybe people treat you like this, cause you deserve it. You're a rotten, skanky bitch, and you deserve it."

Buffy's jaw dropped.

"That's pretty much the Faith you got coming over to your 'Dale. Two years ago, right?"

Buffy nodded mutely.

"Recipe for disaster." Faith raised her head to study the ceiling. "More or less what you wanted to find out?"

Buffy couldn't speak. Or even squeak.

"Oh, forgot something. There's all that, and then there's a dead Watcher to boot. You're dealing with a total psychopath."

The catch in Faith's voice sent Buffy onto full alert. "Faith?"

"What?" the brunette replied, curt.

Buffy studied her for a few seconds, before levering herself upright, both her arms on either side of Faith's body. The brunette's gaze wandered everywhere but towards Buffy's face. "Don't get frigid on me."

Faith made a half-derisive chuckle. "Why?".

"You're not a psychopath after all."

"And that came from, where?"

"Somewhere. But anyway, thanks for telling me all this stuff. I mean it, Faith. I think I needed to hear it.'

Faith squinted, one eyebrow twitching in bafflement, the other contorting back into a familiar veil of anger. It almost appeared comical, seeing Faith's emotions work at double-time on her all-too expressive face.

Before Faith could respond, Buffy interrupted, with tears studding her eyes. "Thank you," she whispered, and lowered herself down, resting against Faith's body, hugging her on the outside of the duvet.

Faith didn't react for a few seconds, no doubt wondering what the hell was going on. It didn't take long before she reluctantly curled her own arms on top of Buffy.

"You're welcome," she eventually muttered.

"Well, this is fascinating," Voirrey said. She sat on one of a collection of chairs spread in the basement. Buffy and Faith poised in front of her, clad in exercise joggers and tank tops. Both panted heavily, having just committed themselves to a full workout. Willow and Tara lingered by the doorway, interested to see the sparring between the two Slayers. Xander and Anya sat slightly askew to Voirrey, apparently placing bets.

Giles in the meanwhile stayed away from the action, researching up a plethora of information as a result of the trip to Angel Investigations. He commandeered the study desk upstairs.

Faith cracked her knuckles, glad to be back on her feet after spending a total of nearly five days occupying a bed, with occasional escorting to the bathroom. She nodded agreement at Voirrey. "Ain't it." She feinted a couple of jabs to the air, confident in her skill.

"No more! I can't take it." Buffy placed a hand against her head, acting as if about to faint.

"Awh. Don't tell me you're all worn out already, B? I got mad skills. Stamina. We've only done three rounds."

"Three rounds with you is more than enough. I'm sore all over."

"Excuse me," Xander interrupted, his eyes bugging out. "But am I the only one who caught the really obvious innuendo in that exchange?"

"No, sweetie," Tara assured him. "We all did."

Anya frowned, before brightening. "Oh! I get it. She's talking like they're having sex. Funny."

Xander sighed. "Thank you, Anya."

"Best out of six?" Buffy said, pouting. Faith let out a breathy laugh, swiping away sweat from her chin.

No way, B. You might beat me this time."

"That is kind of the point, F." Buffy circled around Faith, her hands reflexively curled.

"Plan to keep my winning streak. Gotta keep face in front of my people, y'know?" Faith gave Buffy a light fist bump.

"No, spar again!" Xander protested. "I plan to make a profit out of this."

"I think that's quite enough now, ladies. And gentlemen." Voirrey inclined her head to Xander. "Faith's only been back onto her routine twice since being confined for five days. She certainly doesn't need to exert herself."

Xander let out a groan at the statement. Willow instantly ran up to him, holding her hand out in the universal gesture of _Give Me Money_.

"Gonna unwind with some stretches. That okay, V?"

Voirrey smiled affectionately at her charge. "Of course. Don't be too long, though. There'll be cakes upstairs, unless this greedy lot gets to them first."

"Hey!" Xander protested.

"Yes, mom." Faith replied to Voirrey, rolling her eyes.

Voirrey went strangely pink.

Everyone filtered out of the basement one by one as the two tired Slayers stretched their muscles. Buffy started off slow, just testing the waters with a series of slow, elegant movements, building up into something more resembling a choreographed dance after the last spectator exited. By some sort of unanimous decision, both Slayers remained.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Faith launched herself onto the speedball, pummelling it with furious passion.

"Whoa! Whoa. I thought you were just going to wind down, Faith." Buffy did a flip and a cartwheel, before bending down to touch the mat.

"Ah, Momma Bear worries too much. I got energy to burn. Probably enough to power a fair few households."

"Pretty pent up, huh?" Buffy grinned as she assaulted the punch bag, feeling her muscles jar with each hit.

"Oh, you have no idea." Faith grunted, losing the rhythm on the speedball. "Gimme a turn on the punch bag."

"All yours." Buffy moved to the speedball, gathering up a pace on it as Faith took out some of her underlying issues on the bag.

"How's your whole inner struggle coming along then, B?" She delivered a few nasty kicks to the swaying punch bag, each one accompanied by a sound of exertion.

"Pretty well, F. Patrolled last night with Willow. We only did the nearby cemeteries, but I dusted two vamps without… you know."

"Going bat shit homicidal?"

"That would be it, yes."

"It's not like it hits you all the time, anyway." Faith stopped on the punch bag. Only the thuds of Buffy's workout on the speedball filled the basement. "Ya wanna test it for real?"

"What do you mean?"

"Fighting me."

Buffy slowed down on her movements. "I don't see the point. We've already hit each other for three rounds. Three long rounds, in which blows were exchanged."

Faith paced near Buffy and grinned, sending a chill up Buffy's spine. "Bullshit. You and I both know you put on an act for everyone here."

Buffy stopped completely on the punch bag and stepped away. "Of course I didn't," she replied, a little too quick.

"You pussyfooted around me. I coulda beaten you with one arm tied behind my back, B. I don't need kid gloves."

Buffy reached for a canteen of water and gulped it before emitting a snort. "Well, sorry for being careful." She placed the bottle back down on the floor. "In case you don't remember, last time I wasn't careful, you were kind of bleeding and being all unconscious and stuff. I don't exactly want that happening again. Plus, it's like Voirrey says. You're fresh out of bed."

"Shouldn't let that bother you."

"It does." Buffy shook her head in annoyance.

"Yeah?" Faith slid her hands to rest against her hips aggressively.

"I can't risk it again with you, Faith," Buffy stated emphatically. "I can't risk losing that control and hurting you. Anyone. The sooner you guys figure out how to send me home, the better. And maybe we shouldn't patrol together."

Faith stopped then, a strange light in her eyes. "So, what, that's it, then? You're just gonna give up the whole control thing?"

"No! Of course not. But we should play it safe. Really not sure if I can trust myself right now."

Annoyed disagreement flitted across Faith's face. Her left fist kept clenching and unclenching. "Nice try, but you're not ducking out that easy.

_**She's raring for a fight, **_the Inner Slayer warned.

_Why? _Buffy asked, nervous. The Inner Slayer in the past few days had kept relatively quiet, occasionally chipping into her brain with sarcastic comments.

_**Maybe vengeance? For the punchy kicky.**_

_Vengeance is so old fashioned._

_**Okay, then. To prove her Slayer superiority?**_

_Whatever the reason is, I won't fight her._

_**You might not have a choice.**_

Shaking off the negative answer, Buffy finished off her canteen. "Sorry, Faith. Not now."

She made a few metres towards the stairs before Faith spoke. "If you won't fight me, then I'll fight you."

"Faith," Buffy warned, her voice low, her back still turned. "Everyone's upstairs. Leave it. I've made up my m -"

Buffy staggered forwards from a shove. She instinctively whirled around, glaring at Faith as the brunette hopped from side to side, weight resting on the balls of her feet. Their connection spiked in aggravation.

"Out with it, Summers. Better in here than out there."

"No."

"No? Your loss." Faith shrugged - right before clocking Buffy under the jaw. Buffy's eyes rolled to the back of her skull and she faltered as Faith rained more blows. The brunette grabbed and hurled her onto the mats.

Buffy landed and executed a shoulder roll, becoming upright. She advanced towards Faith, angry, before hesitating. No. She wouldn't let Faith goad her like this.

Unfortunately, Faith took the opportunity to close the distance and land a blow right on Buffy's sternum. Buffy let out a pained choke, gritting her teeth. The blows kept coming, regardless of the lack of resistance.

When it became obvious Buffy really didn't intend to fight back, Faith narrowed her eyes, face distorting into something hard. "Fight back." Buffy's head snapped to the side from a side sweep.

"No." Buffy wondered how long it'd take before she became unconscious. The last blow caused a kind of ringing to echo in her head, and she tasted blood from a cut inside her cheek.

Faith exclaimed harshly. She kicked Buffy in the stomach, causing her to hit the ground. Another kick spread Buffy out flat on the blue mat - and the brunette's weight crashed down, pinning her quite effectively to the floor.

"Fight back," Faith hissed.

Buffy heaved gently, all too aware of the sudden lack of personal space between them. The connection sparked erratically, sending strange tingles through Buffy's body. Her abdomen throbbed from the kick. "I told you, Faith. I really, don't want to hurt you." The words came out with some effort - Faith crushed down on her diaphragm a little too much.

A dangerous, grating chuckle vibrated through Faith. Hovering over Buffy, she licked her lips, almost forcing Buffy to follow the movement. "So you're just gonna let me beat you up? Let me do what I want?" Faith leant forward, until her front pressed rather noticeably against Buffy's. "Nice of you."

Buffy let out a little squeak. "W-what are you doing, Faith?"

Faith leered, lowering her mouth to Buffy's ear. The hot breath made Buffy shudder involuntarily. "What do you think?"

Okay, this was definitely not going the way Buffy expected. "Y-y-y-you're-" she couldn't even say it.

"W-w-w-what?" Faith purred mockingly. The tendons in her arms flexed.

Buffy's breathing increased exponentially. _Oh my God, is she going to try and rape me? _"Okay, I know I said I wasn't going to fight back, but if you're going to sexually assault me, I'll have to get the p-pepper spray. Get off. Get off!"

Faith's response was to tilt her head and leer, one eyebrow advancing skywards. "Make me."

"Don't be a fucking bitch," Buffy spat, getting seriously angry, as well as alarmed. She instantly tensed her muscles to shove Faith off her body. To hell with it. If this _bitch_ wanted her to fight back, then fight she would. This act was one bridge too far.

Faith clutched onto Buffy tighter as if knowing what she planned, and with a slow, languorous swipe of her tongue, licked around and into the shell of Buffy's ear. She blew into the damp flesh with an impossibly hot breath. Like a flame. Like a furnace. Spikes of electricity rippled through Buffy, straight through her ear and between her legs. It was as though she'd been doused in petrol, and Faith's tongue happened to be the ignition.

_No way. _Buffy let out a surprised hiss. Faith sucked in her breath and drew back, examining Buffy with some smugness.

"Yunno, I'd say you were almost enjoying this."

Buffy pushed with a surge of power, knocking Faith backwards. "No I'm not! What the hell, Faith? You licked me?" She flipped into a feral crouch, nostrils flared. "What's wrong with you?"

"Intention was to get you mad." Faith stared at her with dilated eyes, biting her bottom lip. "Did it work?"

Buffy lunged forwards, roughly grabbing onto the neck of Faith's shirt. She raised her other fist to punch. Faith blocked it with her palm and rammed Buffy with her elbow, causing her to grunt in pain.

"Guess that answers it," Faith observed. "Who woulda thunk."

"You. Licked. Me! Whisky. Tango. Foxtrot?" Buffy illustrated each word with an attempted hit, each one of which Faith blocked. She tried a few more times before the brunette rolled her over, starting to laugh.

"My God, you're actually pretty bad, aren't you? A five year old could block those punches."

The words affected Buffy deep inside, digging into her sense of pride. A growl vibrated in the back of Buffy's throat. If Faith's plan was still to wind Buffy up into lashing back, it was working. Too well. "You haven't seen _anything_ yet."

Buffy still had a grip on Faith's shirt, so she twisted and yanked it, unbalancing Faith and landing a hit underneath the brunette's chin. Faith slammed her hands down on either side, still grinning, still otherwise unperturbed.

Buffy froze in mid-punch. _Come on, Buffy, you're better than this. Don't let her stupid grinning face get to you. Throw her off and get away -_

The hesitation was a bad idea.

Faith scraped her teeth against Buffy's neck. The chaotic jolt of energy zinged through again. Buffy squeezed her eyes shut in angry embarrassment and shame, her tenuous grip on her Slayer rapidly failing.

"Stop it, Faith. I'm losing - I can't - I don't want to -"

The brunette immediately halted in her actions, lifting herself up to look at Buffy better. She didn't move or react for a long time. She saw Buffy's fear, and exhaled a few times.

Buffy's fingers began to tear the front of Faith's shirt.

Faith scrutinised Buffy's hand ruining her shirt. "You know, I was planning on letting you off the hook, until you did that."

Buffy gave a menacing snarl, feeling her control slide further. Feeling her mind hang on the edge. The primal essence in her struggled to break out.

"Was even gonna apologise and everything." Faith evidently found Buffy's inner turmoil interesting, even amusing.

Buffy raised her other hand to dig into Faith's top. She didn't feel in control of her actions in the slightest. Somewhere, the rational part of her brain screamed useless admonishments.

Faith's amusement vanished. With a sudden twist, she forced Buffy's hands away, tearing the material further. All it really did was create a jagged v-section down to the dip between her breasts. She followed through the motion by giving Buffy a tremendous bitch-slap.

This switched Buffy's Slayer brain off from lustful to furious. When she bucked Faith off, crouching into a predatory stance, fingers outstretched like claws, Faith nodded triumphantly.

"That's more like it."

Spitting black rage, Buffy launched herself at the brunette.


	12. Chapter 12

Rekhyt hovered directly by the room, his incorporeal form sifting around the invisible barrier, weaving between rubble and broken glass on the floor. Six people hunched up around the pattern of a hexagon, rigid like waxworks. All of them were decomposing, their faces gaunt, sinking into fading musculature. The energy in their bodies fed the barrier. Little remained to siphon of their wasted forms. It was only a matter of time until the shielding failed.

He coalesced into minotaur form, eyes leaving trails of emerald fire behind as he moved. Floating in the air, a supreme feeling of satisfaction vibrated through every molecule. Infiltrating the pathetic Watcher's Council proved far too easy. Years of careful planning and deft manipulation, it actually felt disappointing to see how simple the humans succumbed. Their minds were weak. Nothing like a demon, although most of them possessed little moral integrity.

_**Rekhyt, **_a voice whispered in his mind. _**Have you done it? Will we be free?**_

_Ah, Balthus. I wondered when you were going to come out of that shell of yours. _Rekhyt transmitted the thought in an urbane manner, knowing it drove the eight-thousand year old Darkwalker absolutely wild every time he did. _You haven't bothered to contact me for weeks. I thought you didn't like me, anymore_.

_**I've never liked you - although the humans in the Watchers Council annoy me far more. Some of them are starting to become a little suspicious. I recently found one attempting to seek out more documents on the Hexagons.**_

_I trust you took care of the matter?_

_**Naturally.**_

_Wonderful. _

_**How fares matters your end? Did you complete the Link-Spell?**_

_Without any trouble. I've been playing with the humans in charge over here. Did you know they resurrected the dead Lightwalker? The yellow haired one. Quite a pleasant surprise._

Balthus hissed in dissatisfaction. _**Your idea and my idea of that regard appear to differ. Rekhyt, do not play games with me. We cannot afford any more "pleasant surprises," not when we're so close. Nothing must go wrong.**_

_Relax, old boy. Everything is going as planned._

_**What about the Los Angeles humans? I thought they were giving you trouble because of obtaining the Prophecy**__. _

_Well, we don't need to worry too much about them. I took care of it. I do have some physical presence in this world, after all._

_**Oh?**_

_The whole document is written in the old Cyrillic alphabet. It's simply amazing what one little dot in the right place can do to change the translation of a particular passage. With one splodge, I could make the number ten into a forty, or mess up the formation of phrases. Can you guess what I did?_

_**You altered the date?**_

Rekhyt grinned, his amorphous form bobbing up and down. _Good guess. _

Balthus took a very long time to reply. _**This sounds far too good to be true. Someone will notice the tampering. And if they don't, there must be people in Prague with copies - they will know something is up.**_

_Even if anyone makes it to Prague and somehow finds help, they will be far too late. _

_**Don't be so sure, Rekhyt**__, _Balthus remarked acidly_. __**Your arrogance may be your downfall. When we are free, we shall exchange a few words… in person.**_

_Who's the arrogant one now? _Rekhyt retorted_. _

Balthus only snarled incomprehensibly in response, causing the Darkwalker minotaur to chuckle out loud. Rekhyt snapped out of his mental communication when a unit of burly minions walked through the broken door of the Sunnydale High Library; two minotaurs, three vampires. Rekhyt's own hand picked squad of non-useless killers. One vampire had cloven hooves for feet, the other two had horns curling from their heads. Rekhyt always found it interesting to see that the older a vampire became, the more they looked like minotaurs.

"Oh! You're back early." Rekhyt beamed at them.

"Yes," the cloven hoofed vampire grunted, obviously disappointed; "But we only killed one of them."

Rekhyt's enthusiasm waned. "Ah well. Which one?"

"The seer," the vampire confirmed. "The soul-vampire and the Watcher already leapt the pond." The minotaur by his left side gave a derisive snort.

"Disappointing. But not entirely a wasted mission. Thank you, Kakistos." Rekhyt's form flickered and dissolved. "No sense chasing them to Europe. My brethren are there, after all. Start focusing in Sunnydale. Create as much disruption as possible."

Kakistos nodded, showing every inch of his sharp, jagged teeth. "We can do that. Kill the Slayers?"

"Only as a happy accident. I really wouldn't want them missing the grand opening." Rekhyt's form began to break up. "There's something I need to check on. I'll see you later." He dissipated into nothing, leaving only the ghost of his words hanging.

**Prague - Czech Republic - Europe.**

A tiny, obscure book-store existed on one of the many winding streets of Prague. The section of city it lived in was a part that may as well have been left untouched from when the city was first built, centuries ago. The man known as Vllk scribbled furiously with a quill into a wrinkled parchment made out of thin cow-hide, which soaked up the ink like a sponge. He wore half-moon glasses with a little crack on one side and muttered in Czech, not happy with the presence of Angel in front of him.

Vllk finished with the quill and left it in the inkpot with five other battered, withering quills, and looked up at his audience, face distorted by the lanterns around the ill-ventilated room.

"Your English friend informed me about the… prophecy you have," Vllk said, accent thick yet fluent. Wesley stood by the door, entranced with the twisted, cobbled streets of old Prague. Dirt piled up on the sides next to the rickety, ancient architecture. Rooftops merged together in a chaotic blend of uneven structures - making it simple for people to navigate the entire area without ever touching ground. Flickers of modernisation could be seen here and there with the odd building or two - with fragments of technology on display in shop windows. More were seen in the distance. Although the overall city itself was in fact advanced and up to date with any other great urban habitat, this part of Prague seemed perfectly preserved in a bubble of untouched history.

Vllk himself looked like he belonged in the fading pages of a book; a small, possibly not all there elderly man who muttered into thin air at random intervals, as though he didn't have three other people standing in front of him feeling increasingly more uncomfortable and disturbed with every passing moment.

"I have it here," Wesley informed the man, handing both the translated and original Slavic copies over. Faith sat in the corner of the room, idly observing a humungous spider as it spun a web on one of the higher, book-laden shelves.

Angel lurked nearby the Czech, relaxed in the absence of sunlight. With the relocation of Faith, Wesley and himself to Europe, Angel Investigations hung on temporary hiatus, with Cordelia remaining on contact overseas. She'd told them all in no uncertain terms to come back alive, preferably as soon as possible.

"Voirrey mentioned about that one, too." Vllk jerked an arthritic finger to Faith, who narrowed her eyes at the flippant reference. "Tricky business. Dimensional spells are not to be trifled with - but there are some… hotspots where it is much easier to trespass between realms. We can return her by tomorrow, if that is what she wishes."

"It's that simple?" Wesley asked, startled.

"With the right book, anything is possible," Vllk confirmed. He smiled, the expression utterly unnatural on his aged, deep-lined face.

"Yay, me," Faith muttered, tapping her leg impatiently. The bookshop lacked warmth - growing colder as the night advanced. Faith pulled her hoody up and wrapped her arms into its pouch. The Batman symbol on the front creased up.

"You don't sound too happy about it," Angel walked until he was next to the grouchy brunette.

"Would you be?" Faith smiled cynically. "Maybe I was expecting a holiday." She waved some dust away from her face. "See the sights, enjoy Europe; go to strip or burlesque clubs…"

Vllk peered at her through his half-moon glasses. "A bitter one, I see. Are you interested in remaining in this reality, then?"

Faith took out a cigarette. "What do you think, old man?"

He squinted disapproval at the cigarette. "No, I think. A pity. You look like a very promising Slayer. It is a waste to leave a warrior of light in jail, especially since there can only be one at a time. But ah…" Vllk lowered his head, using a magnifying glass to crane at the Prophecies.

Faith snorted. "Promising, huh…"

"Is that a reason why you're not too fond of Buffy, then?" Angel said gently - believing he'd gotten to the heart of the matter. "She took away the things you could have been?"

Faith didn't answer. Then, quietly, Angel heard the reply: "I just wanted to be noticed. Accepted. To be loved."

Angel heaved a sigh. He understood the feeling only too well. Faith made her way out of the store, fishing a lighter out of her jacket. Angel held high hopes for her. If he could crawl his way out of a century of suffering and a lifetime of destruction, so could she, who went down that path for a far shorter span of time. She had to. In fact, she already did. The Faith of this world stood as living proof.

Angel watched the Czech, remaining absolutely bland whenever the European slurred words together, or muttered incomprehensible statements. Vllk paused in his examining with the manner of a car screeching to a sudden stop. "This…!" Vllk blurted out, muttering and running a hand through his wispy hair. He held up the Slavic copy with a tremulous hand. "Where did you get this? Where?"

"Hey, hey, calm down." Wesley held his hands up in a placating gesture. "Where does Voirrey find these people…" he added in an undertone to Angel.

"We got it from Wolfram and Hart," Angel replied.

"_Ptch! _Did it come translated?"

"No. Wesley translated it - using a book from a creepy dwarf from Budapest."

Vllk pointed at the English copy. "You are very lucky to find a dictionary at all. This language has been dead for nearly five thousand years. Only a handful of people alive today can read it, myself included. Most impressive job with the translation, by the way."

"Thanks." Wesley puffed up with pride.

"But this," Vllk hissed, stabbing a finger at an obscure part in the Slavic version, "Look at this."

Wesley craned over, running his eyes over the Cyrillic patterns. "Yes?"

"Pure garbage. Some of the phrasing make no sense. Mangled sentences. You see? Look at the amount of blotting and formation of the characters here, in comparison to the rest. Is this the original transcript?"

"Uh, no?" Wesley frowned, perplexed. "It's photographed."

Vllk shook his head, exclaimed something unrecognisable but obviously scathing and got up, tipping to pick along his shelves. He reached down the bottom of one shelf - pulled out a hidden compartment - and took out a wrapped scroll. He headed back to his desk and placed it by the side.

"That scroll will gain us entrance to the Lyceum."

"Lice-what?" Faith exhaled her last circle of smoke as she stepped back inside.

"It has a record of every prophecy and prediction in the world. It is a rival source to the Vatican itself. I will take you all there, and I will examine their copy of the Prague Ascension."

"They have a copy?" Angel asked, followed by Wesley's: "But why?"

"You fool. _Look." _Vllk stabbed once at the pages. "Who knows how long this copy has been in your Wolfram and Hart for. I will need to check whether it is authentic or not."

"What do you mean?" Angel demanded.

Vllk regarded them as though they were ignorant children. "This is ancient Cyrillic, and the ink toning makes it difficult to ascertain whether the Prophecy has been tampered with or not. Given some of the peculiar phrasings in the un-translated one, I am thinking yes; so this must be checked. Do you understand?"

Wesley bristled, but didn't bother countering. The old man was already folding up the Prophecy.

"Time to motor, then?" Faith tucked one arm under her chest, reaching to her neckline with the other. "Leave," Faith clarified, when Vllk gave her a puzzled look.

"Of course. We must be certain. The Prague Ascension Prophecy is one that we cannot afford mistakes on." Vllk reached for his green trench coat. "There are things under the earth that you cannot dream of. Bad things."

"Believe me when I say I've seen way, way worse," Angel said, following behind the Czech with the others.

**Sunnydale - Faith and Voirrey's Basement.**

It didn't take long for Buffy to regain consciousness; probably around ten minutes. The blonde groaned and touched the back of her head. Faith crouched nearby, retracting a hand when Buffy opened her eyes. She was about to shake up Buffy quite violently, but luckily, the blonde decided to wake out of her own accord. She also delivered what was quite possibility the most baleful glare anyone could emanate.

"Did you knock me out?" Buffy got up slowly, wincing from the effort.

"Yup." Faith reached and tossed Buffy's canteen over; causing her to catch it with startled reflexes. "Conked ya good."

"It hurts," Buffy said, before adding, "Bitch." She threw the canteen back; Faith ducked.

"Sorry, princess. But I ain't letting you wail on me just because you can't keep a leash on your instincts."

"That never even would have happened if you didn't assault me." Buffy reached down for her shoes.

"I had to." Faith felt the words stick in her throat. How could she explain this in a way the blonde understood?_ "_Buffy," she tried again. "This needed to happen, in a safe environment. Doing something like this puts it at bay for a little while. Like it needs recovery time, I guess."

Buffy digested the information, incredulous. "You kinda failed to mention anything like that."

"I know. My bad."

"What even happened, anyway? I don't really remember much, other than getting pissed off. Like, Majorly."

"Well. You were strong. Growling an awful lot, throwing me about a bit. Think you were looking for something sharp and pointy to do some serious damage. Managed to distract and cold clock you, so happy ending." Faith decided her summary was pretty succinct. Buffy, however, looked puzzled.

"So I didn't hurt you?" Buffy said. She examined Faith over as she said so, obviously checking for any visible injuries.

"Might have some wicked bruises, but no. How you feeling, now?" The lump in Faith's throat returned. A strange assortment of emotions and thoughts tumbled around, as though blasted by an invisible wind in her head. Although she genuinely intended to help out the blonde Slayer, she also wanted to be mad at her, and righteously so. The part of her that viewed the world with a bitter eye always liked to stir up doubts. Everything about this whole situation felt messed up. Truth be told, distracting and knocking the blonde out was difficult. Several times, Faith seriously thought Buffy would get the upper hand and kick her unconscious, or worse. Her strength was frightening. Only the martial arts training over the months saved Faith - in a direct fight of power and speed, the blonde would smash her up and down the room like a beach ball.

The sooner Buffy returned to her own dimension, the better. Life would once again become uncomplicated. Faith could do with some un-complications right now.

Another part of her indulged in the thrill of being in the blonde Slayer's presence. The vibrant energy shared between them rattled like superheated atoms. Strange and alien as it seemed, it didn't matter. Feeling another Slayer nearby felt comforting.

Buffy eventually responded to Faith's query with: "Depleted. Could do with some of that cake Voirrey mentioned."

A half smile tugged at Faith's lips. "Yeah. Bet they're wondering what the hell we're doing down here."

"Did we make much noise?" Buffy continued, slightly worried.

"Doubt it, or that door would be bashed down by now."

As if on cue, Voirrey's voice faintly reached their ears. "What the devil is taking you two so long? I'm not baking any more of this, so come up already."

Both Slayers chuckled, starting to exit the basement. "Sorry for… you know," Buffy said.

"No prob. Least you didn't kill me."

"Yeah. Always a good thing. Did you really have to lick me earlier?"

"Worked, didn't it?"

"Don't do it again. It's icky."

Faith grinned impishly, pushing open the door. "Can't make any promises on that, B."

Buffy groaned but reciprocated the grin. "Seriously. You're gross. Gross and icky."

"You seemed to like it."

"That wasn't really me!"

"Sure. You keep telling yourself that."

"Oh I will. And you. Shut up."

Faith laughed at Buffy's attempts then to interrupt anything she said, which drew the interest of the others all spread around the kitchen table as they entered. Giles sat on an armchair in the lounge, book open on his lap. "What on earth are you two arguing about?" He asked.

"Faith's mean," Buffy pouted.

"Truth." Faith nodded agreement.

"Oh, we all knew that already," Willow said dismissively, folding her arms. "What took you guys so long?"

"Um…" Buffy said.

"Just practising some techniques," Faith interceded.

"Right…" Tara responded, doubtful. "Your top is kind of torn, Faith."

Faith looked down, suddenly remembering. Willow started to giggle. Voirrey raised an eyebrow. Giles rubbed his forehead as if trying to rid himself of whatever thought coursing through. Xander and Anya just gawked. "Oh, yeah, about that…"

**Prague - Czech republic - Europe.**

Wesley flinched when a drop of water splashed onto his jacket. "Cripes!" He glowered towards the offending drain, which looked half-detached from the spidery wall. "I hate little alleyways like this. I always feel as though I'm about to be mugged."

"We are entering a secret component of the National Lyceum. It doesn't exactly have a front door you can see." Vllk sniffed, taking obvious satisfaction in Wesley's discomfort. The sky of Prague had retreated into a veil of dark grey and storm blue - the sunlight all but gone.

"You'd think there'd be less slime. It's everywhere - even in that four star hotel you hooked us up in." Faith growled from the back as she furiously scrubbed at her denim jacket. "It's alright with Angel. He lives in sewers."

The vampire chuckled as they paced down the shadowy, thin network of alleys. "You did have a choice to stay back in LA. Soak up some of that Hollywood sunshine as a free woman. Cordelia certainly would have enjoyed the female company. She doesn't get out much."

"No thanks. I prefer there to be a continent between me and Buffy, and the other Faith. Who knows what kind of shit'll happen if we meet up in the same place. Maybe I'd just vanish from existence," Faith mused.

"That's not necessarily true," Wesley commented, letting out an exclamation of disgust when he trod on a dead rat. "Despite - God, I knew I should had worn the boots - whatever movies you've been watching, dimensional stuff isn't quite that absolute. You won't disappear or cause a huge ripple effect, if you were to meet up with yourself. You already created the ripple just by entering this dimension."

"You keep on saying that to yourself." Faith stumbled over something, cursing. "I'm a bigger fan of the whole 'safe than sorry' shmuck nowadays."

"Sensible child." Vllk nodded approval.

"See? Even old man agrees."

"Sixty-eight years. I'm no… what do you call it, spring chicken. But I'm not old." Vllk sounded offended.

"Anyone over forty is old." Faith grinned when Angel frowned.

"_Ptch." _Vllk disappeared out of sight. "Americans."

They swooped down after Vllk, only to see he had more or less vanished into thin air.

"Guys, Cordelia won't answer the phone, you know," Angel said. "I've tried ringing her a few times."

"Ah, she's probably enjoying not having us breathe down her necks all the time," Wesley shrugged, peering around the compact alleyway.

"To your left," Vllk's voice came back, muffled. In a short amount of time, Faith, Angel and Wesley discovered the entrance by walking through one section of what should have been solid brick wall, but was in fact happened to be a disguised portal/entrance/magical enchantment/thing.

"Okay, this is pretty neat." Faith trawled behind the others, admiring pristine marble walls, black with green streaks interweaved in them like tiny blades of grass, or veins. A sculpture of a minotaur preceded a sloping descent, which could probably be used to sleigh down. Although no obvious origin for the light source illuminating the corridor could be seen, it was incandescently lit, and warm, like a hearth.

"This is like a mansion or castle." Angel poked the minotaur sculpture. He felt a strange sense of unease, seeing it. Almost as if it were somehow watching them. "I didn't even know Prague had those kind of things. I would have visited more." His voice echoed.

Vllk hushed them and waved them on. They followed, not knowing what to expect. The place had a serene sense of loneliness about it; the kind where you felt silence pressing down on your vocal cords, persuading you to walk its expanse in relative quiet. Conversation happened anyway, but acted as an intrusion, which Vllk punctuated often with scowls; as if these halls were somehow sacred. Consecrated.

Angel tried once more to phone Cordelia. Her number flashed up on the screen. He pressed the phone to his ear.

When it went to the automated answer machine, he ended the call, placing the phone back in his pocket.


	13. Chapter 13

Willow studied herself in the mirror, which had many flecks of dirt smudging it. She absently scrubbed at a few blemishes, before concentrating hard on her reflection. According to Tara, if she cleared her mind of all clutter and stopped her brain churning at its usual cogwheel-rate, she would be able to witness her aura, or the electromagnetic presence surrounding her. The trouble was, thinking about mind clearing was a little counterproductive. Her brain took fiendish delight in conjuring up random images, messing up every attempt.

The cold bowl of the sink numbed her hands when she gripped onto it, bringing her to the dim realisation that she was possibly trying too _hard_. She tried to iron out the wrinkled frown from her forehead. Tara said that it was easier to spot someone's aura in a mirror with extended practice. You didn't even need to be a witch to see it. Any old fool could pick out an aura with some sort of observation.

Yeah, right. So why couldn't she see it?

"Willow? I sort of need the bathroom now. Can you unlock the door? I know you're staring at the mirror again."

"Just a minute, Tare." Willow gave up all hope of ever actually viewing her aura and mentally unlocked the latch. The door swung open, revealing Tara bending for the now out of reach handle. The blonde Wiccan sighed, but smiled as well.

"You're getting real good at magic, baby."

Willow beamed. "I know, right? I couldn't have done that three months ago. It feels really great. Like, I just think hard enough, and - poof!"

"At this rate, you'll probably be better than me." Tara patted Willow on the shoulder. "I can sense your magic is very powerful."

"It's only because you've been helping me, that I can even do this stuff," Willow replied, modest. She left the bathroom, flopping onto her college single bed. Tara's bed was nearer the wardrobe, but hers had the desk lamp; perfect for a bit of night time reading, studying, or cramming. With the patrols recently, she barely got the time to keep up with her college coursework. The walks were tougher and required more magic for safety. Willow and Tara both could cast some offensive spells, although it involved mainly just knocking opponents around a few feet or so. Their best asset involved shielding. At the right moment, they could cast it so an enemy bounced off it in an amusing way when they attacked. Tara's defensive spell originally acted as a sort of weak lucky charm, but Willow added her own innovations by combining spells - coming up with a newer and stay more alive version.

The only disadvantage - it drained a lot of energy. So it was usually more tactically sound to spring it up just before a hit.

Willow waited patiently for Tara to come out, legs criss-crossed in the air. She found an annoying strand of hair and chewed, nibbling right through it. Of course, this meant the piece of hair was now stuck on her tongue. She was just attempting to pluck it off, unsuccessfully, when the bed compressed beside her. Tara placed an arm over Willow and hovered.

"What are you doing? Silly." She poked Willow on the nose. After the initial squeal, Willow stuck out her tongue, replying:

"Can you see any hair on my tongue?"

"Um…" Tara leaned into Willow's back. "I don't see it?"

"Maybe you need to take a closer look…?"

"Maybe I will." Tara kissed Willow on the ear, on the tip of her eyelashes, underneath her nose, finishing with her top lip and between her eyebrows. "What's going on in there? You look so intense." She stroked the back of Willow's head.

"You, mostly," Willow giggled like a schoolgirl. Turning, she delivered a quick peck at the corner of Tara's mouth, before finding the offending strand of hair on her tongue for real and spittingit out.

The blonde Wiccan snickered. "Gross. You're like a cat coughing up a furball."

"Meow." Willow rolled, and Tara fell into place by her side, messing up the bedcovers.

"So… you're thinking about me?" Tara walked her fingers over Willow's forehead.

"Maybe a little." Willow moved in for a second, more sensual kiss. Tara gently nudged Willow onto her back and moved above, pressing their bodies together in an intimate embrace. Their mouths continued to build up rhythm. Their hearts raced.

Tara broke contact, breathing deeply as she bumped foreheads with Willow.

"Not bad," she managed between shaky gasps. "P-pretty convincing demonstration."

Willow pouted, wriggling underneath like a fish. "Just pretty convincing?"

"I'd say… a silver. Silver medal. The shiny kind."

"Huh. Can I, um, get a gold for Tongue Gymnastics, then?"

Tara laughed, peppering Willow's cheek. Willow in turn pretended to fend off the barrage, trying to move out of reach of the kisses when it was pretty obvious she only had a few inches to move either way.

Tara stopped the assault and raised a thoughtful eyebrow. "I'll think about it. You did qualify through the preliminary rounds, after all…" Her fingers started inching.

Willow bit back a moan when Tara's hand crept under the hem of her top, reaching up to her bra-line and teasing the itchy skin there. It tickled. Outrageously. Willow squealed and shoved Tara over, igniting the tickle war.

By the time they both finished their attempted torture on each other, Tara's voice was weak with mirth as she tried in vain to slap away extra tickle attempts. They flumped in each other's arms, occasionally shaking in a fresh bout of random giggles. It took quite some time for them to calm down.

When they did, Tara absently raised one hand up as though reaching for the ceiling. She moved her arm in a slow, languid motion. Willow watched as Tara pointed out each small crack on the plastered surface - including the spider in the far corner, curled up into a tiny ball.

"What do you see?" Willow asked, envious. She knew Tara saw the world through vibrant auras, sensing people's moods as glimmerings of colour. Tara waved her arm from side to side.

"Soft gold, like a dim light. The room is white and grey. The spider is green."

"Green?" Willow squinted at the spider, as if willing herself to see the same thing.

Nope. All she saw was a rather ugly, and creepy looking creature in the corner.

"Cold green," Tara nodded confirmation.

"And me?"

"Blue and pink. Calm blue, like the sky. Pink with love, and a tinge of gold on the outer edges."

Willow smiled. "That sounds nice."

"You were red, earlier. Discontented." Tara frowned worry, letting her elbow rest on the bedcover.

"I just -" Willow sighed, "I just wish I could see the world like you do. It sounds like a dream."

"Sometimes." Tara traced patterns on Willow's arm. "But I see… bad things, sometimes. Feel them. When someone is particularly emotional, I sort of soak it up. Like a sponge."

"Oh?"

"Being near Faith - now Buffy - they can be terrifying, sometimes. It's because they're Slayers, Willow," she added at Willow's inquiring eyebrow.

"We know they are," Willow huffed. "They're still people before Slayers, though. They just have a little more… zing."

"That - t-that's not true, I think," Tara murmured. "Slayers aren't quite fully human. There's something inside them that makes it that way. A darkness in their auras…"

"Tare, you're scaring me, now."

"Sorry." Tara gave Willow a quick hug. "I didn't mean to. I'll stop…"

A loud wail interrupted the flow of conversation between them. Both girls jerked their heads towards the open window. Nervously, Willow moved and peered out to the University campus.

"Goddess!" She withdrew from the window, ashen-faced. "Goddess…"

"W-what?" Tara looked as well, hands digging into the windowsill. Willow backed away further and bent down to her backpack.

A cry of alarm slipped out of Tara. "Tell everyone. Get Faith and Buffy."

Willow nodded, rummaging through the contents for a cell phone. "Already on it!"

She fished it out and clutched it between two trembling hands, joining Tara. Originally the school compound below them had a few groups of students sitting on benches, or the freshly mown grass. None of them, above and below, were prepared for the shambling shadowy creatures rising out of the ground.

Two minotaurs and three vampires strolled amongst the startled and terrified students, happy to watch the spectacle as the black, shapeless monsters grasped onto their prey. The effect of contact with one of the creatures was not a happy one. Willow only needed to see one human crumble into dust, as though made out of porous rock, before she needed to resist the urge to be sick. With screams ringing outside, she held the phone to her ear, hands shaking as she waited for the call to connect.

"W-what are those, Tare? I've never seen t-those?"

"Me, neither." Tara chewed on her finger, pale faced. Both of them jumped when another scream echoed - this time from the corridor outside their dormitory.

Their eyes met. Automatically they reached out for each other.

"It'll b-be alright," Tara whispered. "We'll be a-alright."

**Prague - Czech Republic - Europe.**

The National Lyceum, vault of knowledge, was virtually denuded of all documents and books. Okay, so there were lots of shelves, just very empty ones. Angel had been expecting rows upon rows of books clogging the air with their ancient smell, maybe some scrolls neatly tucked in glass cases or piled up in pretty little piles. There was, however, an Almanac depicted on the far south wall, displaying a crude astronomical calendar of the sun and moon cycles around the earth.

Wesley didn't appear very impressed by the massively barren room. "I thought you said the Lyceum rivalled the Vatican in the knowledge department. Is this actually the main chamber, or some sort of false room?"

"This is the main chamber, Englishman. Do you really think we would be stupid enough to have powerful, dangerous tomes on display? You underestimate the security we employ." Vllk strolled amongst the empty shelves, craning his neck to the rows as though searching for something.

Faith fidgeted. "Don't see no security."

Vllk flashed her a thin smile. "We have two golems."

"Golems?" Now Wesley perked up in interest. "Really?"

"Mm. Relics of a bygone magical age. They patrol the premises. They are not the main security though. The real security is… ha!" His hand scrabbled along the bottom of the western shelf - and pulled out a scroll. Everyone blinked at Vllk in astonishment as he unravelled it.

"Well now," Wesley commented. He eyed the scroll speculatively.

"It's like he just pulled it out of thin air," Faith remarked.

Angel patted Faith's shoulder. "He probably did."

"Don't be foolish," Vllk said. He didn't bother adding an explanation to alleviate their confusion.

Wesley glanced at the deceptively empty shelves. "Are those shelves full of…?"

"Invisible documents, yes." Vllk pulled out his borrowed copies of the Prague Ascension Prophecy, and took everything to the nearby mahogany table, which had a small desk lantern on the side.

"Oh."

"Neat." Faith moved to one of the shelves and ran her hand over the surface. Her expression of interest fast faded into bewildered annoyance. "Hey! I don't feel anything."

"That's because they're in another plane of existence." Vllk raised an amused eyebrow. "I told you. We are hardly going to leave dangerous artefacts out on display. We have been safeguarding them for many years." He cocked his head to the side, addressing Wesley. "You were interested in the golems?" When Wesley nodded, Vllk indicated the two new arrivals just coming in from the eastern entrance. "Over there. The left pale brown one is Witiezslav, the right black one is Jan Hus."

Angel whistled at the sight of the two clay golems. _Holy hell_. Both were an impressive nine foot tall. They were shaped in a vaguely humanoid way, with their faces carved to lifelike perfection. Their bodies however, were lumpy and barrel-like. White symbols glowed on their chest cavities. Both golems approached the group. Faith teetered on the balls of her feet, nervous. Vllk ignored them. Wesley suddenly looked as though he was regretting his earlier intrigue.

The one known as Witiezslav spoke - in Czech. Vllk responded, sounding slightly irritated, giving a few flippant gestures with his hand. He still seemed engrossed in his study of the prophecies.

"What's going on?" Faith muttered to Angel.

"Don't look at me. It's all Dutch. Well…"

Jan Hus spoke then, a whirring sound emitting from it.

"The fuck?' Faith jumped, startled.

Vllk briefly looked up from his scrolls. "Jan Hus is adjusting their default language so you three can understand."

"Designated language, English." Jan Hus inclined its huge frame towards the group in a polite gesture. "Greetings." Its dark blue eyes were oddly piercing.

Wesley appeared taken back. "Oh, um. Greetings?"

The golem nodded, before facing Vllk. "I regret to inform you, master Vllk, that there has been a disturbance."

The old man growled, rubbing his temple vigorously. "This better be important."

"The safeguards around the Pit has been compromised. Neither Witiezslav or I can investigate fully, without risk of corruption to our data systems."

Now this got Vllk's attention, but still left Angel, Faith and Wesley hopelessly confused.

"Elaborate." The old man rested his fingers on the parts of the prophecies he'd skimmed up to.

Jan Hus and Witiezslav opened their mouths in response. Where their tongues should have been, instead rested small, Cyrillic scrolls - the binding enchantments used to animate their bodies. Resting on top of each scroll was a tiny artefact. Each golem took the artefact out of their mouths, and crowded around the table where Vllk worked to hand them over. Vllk detached himself from the documents and picked each artefact delicately out of the golem's boulder-like hands. He bundled them up, face compressing in trepidation and alarm. Witiezslav stepped backwards, turning its huge frame to face the Westerners. Jan Hus remained stationary.

"Impossible," Vllk spluttered. He glanced back down to the prophecies. His eyes blurred across the words.

Faith tapped her foot in irritation, attempting a staring match with Witiezslav. Angel glanced at the crusty old Czech with unease, identifying that his paling face was probably a good indication that they were in for some bad news. Very bad.

"What are those things?" Wesley didn't want to go anywhere near the golems, so instead attempted to crane his neck to see the artefacts nestled in Vllk's hand better.

Vllk ignored him for a moment, then looked up from the prophecies, pushing them away. He licked his lips. "I was right. I knew something was odd. Peculiar. Your version of the Prague Ascension Prophecy _has _been tampered with." He stood up, briefly leaning on the desk for support. "The date is wrong. You haven't got a few weeks to prevent the apocalypse." Vllk beckoned them all over. Cautiously, everyone shuffled closer, casting wary glances at the immobile golems. Angel didn't enjoy the sensation of snakes wriggling in his stomach very much.

"You have had… until about four hours ago to prevent the apocalypse."

Silence.

"What do you mean, four hours ago?" Wesley's voice tinged with panic.

"I mean," Vllk snapped, "That the apocalypse is already under way. The Darkwalkers have ascended." He scrunched up the prophecy scrolls in a fit of agitation. "Why didn't you people come sooner about this? Why didn't the Lyceum Guardians realise sooner? Why didn't _anyone_ realise…" Angel involuntarily moved forwards to try and stop the old man from having a heart attack, but Vllk flinched violently away. Angel let his hands fall to his sides. Obviously the old man didn't trust vampires. And clearly not the one once known as Angelus.

"We didn't know. The Powers That Be… they were a little cryptic when they gave us the advice on the prophecy," Wesley said, chastened. "We spent weeks trying to bring Buffy into this world, because they insisted we'd lose without her. Then we spent a little more translating the language. We didn't know," he reiterated.

"At least with this… Buffy, that was one thing you did right," Vllk scowled. He flicked a glance to Faith. "And you claim that this Slayer is an accident. Yes?"

Faith narrowed her eyes.

"Not mentioned in the prophecy, or by the Powers." He regarded her in interest. "Fascinating, to be sure… perhaps we will have a use for you."

"Oh, will you."

Angel winced at Faith's tone.

"As it is, we are in a bit of trouble." Vllk brandished the artefacts in his palm. They glowed dull white.

"You don't say," Angel said.

Wesley harrumphed. "Are you ever actually going to explain what they are?"

"Yes. They're keys. Keys to a very dangerous area in Prague, which we refer to as the Pit. It is the same ones imprisoning the Darkwalkers mentioned in your Prophecy. The same ones now currently free, as according to this document."

Angel digested the news glumly. "Is that so?"

Vllk nodded. "The golems would only ever release the keys into this reality if there is a breach that they cannot risk investigating themselves, due to the destruction of the enchantment binding them together. I think that speaks for itself."

"I don't see the world falling down or anything," Faith observed.

Vllk gave her a withering stare. "Trust me, it is. The process of the Black Plague will spread out from each of the Hellmouths slowly - thanks to your council planting gate spells over each one in their ignorance. You have condemned the world." He directed the next stare at Wesley.

Faith tilted her head, processing the information. "So… what the hell we gonna do, then?"

Vllk shrugged. "Run."

**Sunnydale - Faith and Voirrey's house.**

Faith reached underneath her bed for the boots she remembered flinging away some weeks back. They were slightly worn, yet held their shape despite the various forces of evil they'd been forced to mash up over the months. Another happy discovery was the cellphone she forgot she'd even lost.

Buffy and Voirrey waited downstairs, maintaining some strange thread of conversation that got Faith escaping as soon as she could. They would all head over to Giles' place later and start the patrol from there.

Faith thought about the blonde Slayer. She no idea what the hell was going on between her and Buffy, personally. Did they hate each other? Tolerate each other as work buddies? Were they actual friends? And then there was the incident in the basement the day before. She scrubbed vigorously at her hair.

Because _damn_. There was some serious sparkage there. Okay, so there was deliberate provoking on Faith's part and some beating up as well, but still.

_**Someone's not been getting some… **_the Inner Slayer snickered.

_You. Shut up, _Faith snapped back.

She rammed on the boots and poked at her cellphone, only to find the battery completely drained. She sought out the charger, plugged into the wall beside her bed, and hooked the phone up. After the little beep and the battery icon flashed on her screen, she turned the cellphone on properly to check her backlog of messages or calls.

No messages. Four missed calls. Two answer phone messages. The older voicemail was at least two weeks old. Faith just never bothered checking it up. The message came from Voirrey, making sure she was okay on some random patrol night. The second was from someone she hadn't heard from in a long time; dated yesterday.

She leaned against the bed and put it to her ear.

_Faith. There isn't long left for me, so I'll make this quick-ish. And it's strange because I know exactly when you'll get this message - a day later when you find your stupid cellphone under your bed because of your incompetence with putting things in a place so you can find them. But anyway, listen up._

_I'm about to die. Which sucks. No way out of it for me, although I got this nice, splitting headache of a vision warning me that my number's up in a few minutes. I'm supposed to warn you that Sunnydale University will be under attack from some really nasty goons as you're listening, right now - and Willow and Tara are in danger. They'll try to call, but they won't be able to connect._

Faith barely blinked or inhaled as she continued to listen. _Cordelia…_

_If you and Buffy go to the University to try and save Willow and Tara, both of you will die. Unless you do what I say. _Cordelia paused. A few sharp gasps of breath came through the receiver, as though she was on the verge of hysteria. When she spoke again, her voice cracked. _Christ. Waiting to die has never sucked so much. I'm going to miss you, you stupid slut. _

Faith felt the base of her eyelids moisten. _Miss you, too._

_So as compensation, I refuse to let you die on me as well. I know you'll be all up for heroics because your two best friends are in danger - so here's a Get Out of Jail Free card, complete with long term end game plans. I guarantee the baddies won't be expecting this…_

Faith sat rigid, her attention riveted to the message of her dead friend. When it finished, she didn't lower the cellphone from her ear for quite some time. Placing it at last into her jacket pocket, her eyes darted towards the bedroom window.

_Goodbye._


	14. Chapter 14

Hiding behind a convenient bush, Buffy surveyed the University campus. Most people on the site were either dead or running around aimlessly, chased by various creatures. Buffy didn't want to be here when the rest of the Hellmouth demon population decided to hit the newest terror joint. She glanced sideways to both Watchers and Faith.

Dark stains were smeared all over the central courtyard. Two strange monsters walked in uneven circles around each other, blocking their route to the dormitories.

"What in God's name are those?" Giles adjusted his glasses out of habit, crouching alongside Buffy.

Faith ran her hand nervously down her thigh. "Never seen them before."

Voirrey didn't comment, but eyed the movements of the creatures in question like a hawk, mouth furrowed in a taut line. It wasn't exactly a scowl, but it seemed as though she was gathering the pieces of one together in case she needed them in a hurry. Buffy personally thought the creatures looked like corpses dipped in an oil vat. Emaciated muscles poked out from their ragged clothes. Both appeared painfully thin in appearance. Each walked with a permanent slouch.

"They're even uglier than usual," Buffy said.

Giles scratched his chin. "All manner of things converge upon the Hellmouth." He looked at the other Watcher for assistance. "Do you perhaps recognise them?"

Voirrey gave a non-committal shrug. "Can't say I've seen them or read about them."

"Darkwalkers…" Giles tested the word from the prophecy.

Voirrey gave him a sharp, appraising stare. "Maybe."

_**Oh, please, **_Buffy's Inner Slayer snorted. _**Those things aren't Darkwalkers. They're simply the puppets.**_

Movement caught Buffy's eye. "Someone's over there." She jerked her finger over to the entrance of one of the dormitories, choosing to ignore the snide mental voice. A student peeked furtively outside, palms pressed to the glass doors. He sized up the walking corpses.

"He's gonna run."

Faith proved correct. The student shoved open the door and broke out into a sprint, going in the opposite direction of the monsters. Their slow, unbalanced movements didn't seem to offer any threat. At least, until the student attracted their attention. Their heads jerked in his direction. They began to shamble after him, moving considerably faster than Buffy thought possible. Their speed peaked at a dead run. Before he reached the edge of the campus, they seized the student with spindly limbs. Voirrey shot out a hand as Faith jerked forward, holding the brunette in place. Buffy hesitated as well, realising she was about to do the same thing. Faith clenched her teeth, the muscles popping on her neck.

The captured student convulsed, inky darkness spreading onto his skin, discolouring the veins rapidly. Within the blink of an eye the student hit the ground, his form crumbling into the night. Then he was dust. Nothing.

The corpses resumed their slow, shambling gait, making their way back to the centre of the courtyard.

Buffy revised her mental assessment of them.

"I think it's safe to presume we shouldn't let those creatures come into direct contact with us," Voirrey said.

Faith nodded, her eyes bulging. "Yeah… ain't gonna hear me arguing on that score."

"The bad guys aren't playing very fair," Buffy complained, parting the bushes slightly. "In my world, the most you had to worry about was being knocked around a bit, maybe some unfashionably dressed cyborg, maybe being killed a little…"

"I don't recall them ever playing fair." Giles shook his head at Buffy's words. "Regardless, we need to get past those creatures and enter the dorms. I'm afraid with their speed, that may prove to be difficult."

"Yeah, so G-man - this is where guns would be real handy. This ain't the seventeenth century or whatever."

"Contemplate that another time, Faith. As it is, we'll have to find another way in." Giles began retreating on his hands and knees, only to find no-one else was doing the same. "Unless someone has an idea they'd care to share out."

"I got this," Buffy said, coming to a decision. "We don't have much time, so I'll run out there, get them chasing me. Doubt they can outrun a Slayer. They don't look very building climb-y, either."

Instead of the storm of protests Buffy expected, she instead got a nod from Voirrey, and a worried but accepting frown from Giles. Faith on the other hand, inhaled sharply. She violently shook her head. "No."

"Take this." Voirrey placed a sun bomb in Buffy's palm.

"You guys not hearing me? No way!" Faith clutched at Buffy's arm roughly. "We gotta stick together, it ain't safe out there -"

"It's okay." Buffy briefly patted the dark Slayer's fingers, teasing them off. "Wish me luck." She grinned her most optimistic smile and kicked off, drawing the corpse's attentions. Fear and fury trickled through the Slayer connection from Faith's end. Buffy ignored it to concentrate on outrunning the very fast corpses. She swerved around the corner of the first building, adrenaline flaring up in her muscles. The thought of those creepy monsters hot on her tail scared the heck out of her.

Her assessment about their speed proved to be correct. They were fast, terrifyingly fast. Not quite Slayer fast, though. Definitely not climb-y, either. She scaled up the reception area via one handy pipe, nearly tearing it off as she vaulted onto the flat roof. The corpses scraped at the wall, not happy at her escape. Buffy smirked, proud of herself. When they began to retrace their steps, the smirk vanished. She thumped the roof.

"Where are you all going? I'm right here!"

A couple of them stopped at the sound, swayed for a tantalising moment…

Then continued moving away.

Buffy muttered under her breath as she climbed back down. She waved her hands frantically, trying to get their attention. "Hey! Stop a second! I'm only joking. Come on guys, I'm sorry I tried to escape…"

The corpses spun around and shambled after her again. With a resigned sigh, she whirled and sprinted.

She skidded at the next corner. Panic surged through her when she nearly crashed into a club-wielding vampire.

"Slayer," he grinned, swinging it at her. Buffy sidestepped, feeling the weapon whisper over her head.

Nervous at the near miss, Buffy fumbled for her stake. "Can't we talk this out?" _Stay calm. The corpses won't catch you if you're careful. _Empty reassurance. One tiny slip up - one dead Buffy.

She scowled at the vampire. He looked oddly familiar. Mutated and cloven hoofed. She was sure she'd seen something like him before…

Buffy choked out all the air in her lungs as the vampire's next swing connected. She flew some fifteen feet, landing hard and rolling to a stop against a stone bench. Coughing, she scrambled upright, stunned at the power behind the hit. Her ribs felt tenderised. Not broken, but they wouldn't take kindly to another strike like that. So. Vampire. Not run of the mill. Hell, he could probably pick up the mill and deck her with it. Also, corpses. Now coming around the corner. _Holy…_

Buffy barely avoided their outstretched arms, taking off again at the fastest speed manageable. The sudden brush with the corpses set her heart palpitating wildly. The vampire gave chase as well, roaring as his hooves thundered on the concrete.

_Any ideas? _She flicked the thought into her brain, wheezing from the effort of her inhuman pace.

_**Live long enough so the others rescue Willow and Tara, then somehow miraculously escape? **_

_Knew I could count on you. _Buffy remembered the sun bomb Voirrey had handed her, shoved very helpfully in her right jacket pocket.

_**If you're planning to use that, gain a bit more distance. And make sure there's nothing for him to hide behind. You really don't want that thing missing.**_

_Yeah. _She glanced behind. The vampire strode ahead of the corpses. He no longer wielded the club, having tossed it to the side for more speed. He was pretty fast. Faster than the corpses. Possibly faster than her. _Not good._

Speed. Never enough when you needed it. Faith pounded ahead of Giles and Voirrey, not liking the fact the dormitories were so empty. Well, not counting the smears of blood, intestines and the occasional limb decorating the corridors - but when it came to people being actually alive or panicking and running and stuff, it resembled something out of _Silent Hill_. She launched herself up the first flight of stairs, sporadically throwing her Slayer senses out to seek the familiar presence of the Wiccans. Cordelia said they'd be attacked in the dormitories.

Damn. Her legs strained as she hurled herself up the stairs four steps a time, using the banister to add momentum on the turn. The window of opportunity was narrow. Once the entire underworld of Sunnydale heard about the carnage at the university, they'd be streaming in like the whole place was a club dealing free shots. Anyone lucky enough to make it out of the first wave wouldn't make it out of the next dozen. She needed to stick to the plan. Dive in, dive out. Don't hang around. Save her friends before something finds and eats them. Ignore any heroic impulses to save anyone else as well. The heroic one particularly chafed. It increased her mental list of all the people she couldn't save.

The second floor was quiet, but noise came from the ceiling. Faith started on the next flight, pushing herself harder. Time. So little of it. Her hand slipped near the top but she crouched up, hitting the corridor at a stumble. Blood-scent pervaded her nostrils. Her boots were covered in it. So was her hand.

Dashing wildly, Faith made it to Tara and Willow's dorm room. She took in the sight of broken furniture and slashed curtains, as though a bull decided to rampage through it. Several bulls with clawed hands. Chunks of wood littered the carpet. Wooden supports impaled the bed mattress. The window creaked in the twilight wind, wide open. _Maybe…? _

Faith slammed her hands on the sill, peering out to the sheer drop below. The Inner Slayer tugged at her consciousness, drawing attention to specks of blood running across an outer ledge to what probably once had a drainpipe attached to it. Sure enough, most of it lay shattered below. Faith began to make her way along, trying hard not to register the drop. The trick to it was to ignore it, shunt it out of mind and pretend she walked on solid ground.

_**And not look down.**_

Using her enhanced strength, she jumped up, fingers grasping onto the roof edge. They barely gripped on, and there was a frightening moment when they slipped inches before she swung up, one heel pushing the rest of her body over and onto the flat roof. She saw stars in the darkening sky, wisps of cloud.

Somehow, she surmised, Tara and Willow made it up here. Maybe they used the pipe successfully, and something else ripped it off the moorings. _Where are they? _

More specks of blood stained the roof, growing exponentially larger. It cumulated into a large puddle just by the raised stair entrance, coming from the section just out of vision.

Faith strode forward, fists clenched tight. Cold knots formed in her stomach.

She stopped. A tumble of moon-lit red hair stirred in the wind. Willow lay in a huddled heap, bruises on her arms. Unconscious.

_Fuck. Is the blood…? _

No, not her blood. Faith knelt beside the redhead. Aside from a broken leg, the bruises, and the unconsciousness, Willow didn't seem too bad. Maybe. Hopefully.

_Then that means…_

Faith swallowed. She swung the roof door open. Her first focus was the stairs. The next was the thing sprawled on the bend before the next set of steps.

_No, no, no! _Faith hurtled down, wrists stinging as she impacted the wall. Immediately she crouched down, reaching into matted blonde hair.

_Jesus Christ. _Faith checked for a pulse, thoughts spiralling into black recesses. She wanted to find whatever did this, and have a long, heartfelt conversation. One that involved hanging them by their intestines off a cliff.

The Inner slayer hissed in outrage. _**Looks like some bastard tore up her face. **_

More than that. _Chewed_ on her face. Jagged teeth marks scissored over the left side of her head, leaving it a sinewy pulp of ruined flesh.

Last and not least, she couldn't feel a pulse.

Buffy squeezed her eyes shut as sunlight exploded behind, searing her eyelids. When the light faded, she whirled back to confront the cloven-hoofed vampire, hoping the bomb had incinerated it. She panicked when she saw him, but relaxed when she noticed he wasn't moving, charred completely black by the blast. He took a step. Or maybe just got pushed forward by the wind. His form crumbled into dust.

All in all, pretty creepy to watch.

The disgusting shambling oil things closed in on her, unaffected by the blast of light.

Buffy made it to the edge of the copse on the University grounds, found an oak tree and climbed up it. She watched with a mix of mild amusement and hysteria as the creatures milled about uselessly, lifting herself up higher when one scratched the bark. Other than that, they stood in a collective stupor, swaying on the spot. They did this for a full minute.

"You know, I'm really glad you guys can't climb."

None of them deigned to answer. She squinted at them, swinging her legs loose on the branch she sat on.

"So as much as I enjoy this great conversation we got going, I'd appreciate it if you all moved. Soon."

More swaying. She found it hard to see them properly under the shade of the trees and the oncoming night. This made her nervous. "Really soon. Working on a time limit, here. Normally I'd come down and kick your asses, but there's the whole touch thing you do, and you don't seem to die like normal bad guys. Got any tips?"

_**Doubt it, **_the Inner Slayer commented, _**But I think your words are getting to them - they're not rocking so much. Well, either that or they just fell asleep.**_

Buffy slumped out and shook with weak, involuntary laughter; the sort that came when hearing something unexpected. _Do they even sleep? They don't have eyes._

The standoff continued. Then -

_**Oh! Think they're moving. **_

Coming to some sort of unanimous conclusion, shuffled off one by one. They split up into separate directions, one disappearing into the trees, others heading back to the direction of the main campus.

Better and better. She waited a few moments, then jumped down, making a beeline for the car-park. It didn't take long to get there. Concern spiked when she still saw both Watcher's cars, but no actual Watcher, Wiccans, or Slayer in sight.

_They should be out by now. _She rubbed her sleeves together, contemplating searching for them. All the while she kept herself low, not willing to draw any attention. Her senses buzzed with demonic activity, making her itch for some sort of combative action. Instead she lurked by the cars. A minute. Two minutes. Time played on her anxiety like an instrument.

An incessant chant rang in her head. _What if they're in serious trouble? What if they're dead or dying, and could have been saved if you were searching for them? What if… _Interrupted by footsteps, she snapped out of her wallowing self doubt and focused on the people approaching. Buffy's unease evaporated into relief when she saw the two Watchers and Faith, then fast-forwarded into dismay when she realised Faith and Giles each carried a limp person in their arms. Tara. Willow. Willow lolled like a little rag doll, dwarfed in the Watcher's arms. With bandages swathed over her face, Tara was curled in Faith's embrace like a baby animal. Faith cradled the unconscious Wiccan with fierce protectiveness, mouth thin with concern. When she locked gazes with Buffy, the simmering anger in them made her shudder.

It reminded her of a very different Faith.

Wordlessly, Buffy opened both car doors. Voirrey kept delivering furtive glances back, as though expecting to be ambushed at any moment.

"Are they…?" Buffy began, as Faith manoeuvred gently into Voirrey's backseat, taking care not to jostle Tara.

"Alive. Just." Faith was terse, her focus on the blonde in her arms.

"My car." Giles gestured to Buffy. "And hold Willow for me, please." He placed Willow in Buffy's arms and guided her to his car. Buffy slid onto the leather upholstery, examining Willow for injuries. Giles closed the door and entered the driver seat.

Willow's leg twisted at a bad angle. The shock might had forced her unconscious, unless the bruises were indicative of brute force, maybe trauma to the temple…

The car jerked into life, backing out and swerving after Voirrey's rust bucket of a vehicle.

No one seemed willing to congratulate Buffy on her death defying performance of running away from a steroid-induced vampire and shuffle-y things. Willow certainly wasn't going to say anything. Giles didn't.

Buffy stared out the window as they fled the scene of the crime. The University blurred by into long street roads. Clouds formed thicker in the skies, heavy with the threat of rain. Not for the first time, doubt crept into Buffy's consciousness. Maybe this would be the apocalypse that intended to stay.

_**Nah, course not. We'll come up with something. **_

_I hope we do. _Buffy watched the first drops of rain hit the car window.


	15. Chapter 15

**Prague**

Wood splintered as Faith crashed into a door frame. The door held, but barely, and Faith shook the chippings off, not particularly impressed. The lack of air to her lungs didn't help, either. She ducked as a meaty fist swung out at her head. This broke the door, and she sent the assailant hurtling through. In the alleyway it didn't take long to finish off the female vampire, who screeched curses at her in that weird-ass language.

"I feel the same way," Faith said, plunging the stake deep. Dust kicked up into the air. Immediately after the slaying, Faith retreated into the house, planning to make her escape onto the rooftops. The noise of their brawl already attracted other creatures of the night and she didn't want to hang and meet them. Vampires she could probably deal with. Plague walkers - best to keep those away with a pole - preferably the longest one possible. She'd seen the effects of them firsthand. The last thing she needed was a walker grabbing her with its inky black hands and poofing her into a whole lot of nothing.

Squeezing through a port-window, she clattered onto the roof, making her way to a higher vantage point. A crescent moon hung in the sky, with stars bunched in constellations, all watching her progress in the night. From the cockerel weathervane, she eyed at least six plague demons shuffling along the streets, swarms of vampires searching for morsels, and a couple of minotaurs looking big and generally obnoxious. They were as bulky as the golems from the Lyceum, and possessed enervating auras, like the walkers. She crouched, contemplating diving down on one of them. Her Inner Slayer agreed gleefully, sending a welcoming rush of power into her veins…

She caught sight of Angel hopping from roof to roof a fair distance away, his black coat flapping like bat wings. She dragged herself out of her daze and headed towards him, examining for any injuries on herself along the way. Skidding down red brick tiles, she pounced onto the next roof, boots cracking the wooden boarding which separated her from the long fall below. Angel joined her on the apex of the building, waving in greeting. They both settled down, legs swinging over the drop.

"Nice night," he observed.

Faith smirked in response, flexing the bones in her knuckles. On the outskirts of Prague, wind ruffled the plants in their flowerpots and hanging baskets. Less than thirty metres away, all the plants in their troughs and patches of soil lay still. Picking up some roof gravel, she threw it in a straight arc. It hit something and bounced. The ripple from the point of impact extended far above their heads to race across the night sky.

"This makes me think we're the goldfish in a bowl." Faith scooped up more grit, flicking it away. "Pretty dumb fish." She indicated the transparent barrier covering the entire city.

Angel laughed. "That's one way to put it. Don't think we look that fishlike, though."

More gravel struck the barrier; again, it shuddered out a pulse, otherwise remaining completely unaffected. Faith sucked in an irritated breath.

"You know, someone paying attention will notice the big ripples you're doing, find out the source, then probably eat you," Angel pointed out.

Faith stopped throwing things, flashing an impish grin instead. "Nah. By the time they get here, I'll be gone. So I'm thinking they'll eat you."

"Thanks," Angel said flatly.

"No prob. Any luck your end?"

"Some," Angel admitted. He tugged out a small, scrunched piece of paper from his duster. The writing on it was almost illegible. "Took a good few days to track 'em down. Everyone's gone to ground since the barrier came up. The sewer system here is like a giant labyrinth… which is typical. Why can't we ever get small sewers? It's not like there's a huge underworld just beneath our feets or anything."

"Huh." Faith's senses prickled. She traced the source to the shambling movement of a plague walker some fifty feet off, ignoring Angel's tirade. She couldn't see it down in the twisting alleyways, but knew from experience it had no climbing skills.

"What about your end?" Angel carefully placed the wad of paper back.

"Nothing. Killed some vamps. They didn't feel much like talking."

"Ah." Angel vaulted up, adopting a mild pace across the rooftops. Faith stretched and followed. Their shoes tapped lightly on the tiles. Their jumps caused the most noise, and Faith winced whenever shale or brick broke off to smash on the ground. Plague walkers skittered towards the sounds, but Faith and Angel stayed high, covering the roofs as fast and silently as possible.

Almost as silently as possible.

"You know, I could be chilling on a beach somewhere. Or pacing a cell in jail. Either way, somewhere _way_ better than here," Faith whispered the complaint.

Angel raised an eyebrow as he slowed. "Have I ever told you how awesome you are to stay, then? I can do that if you want."

'S'not like I had a choice, was it? That chess dude has the teleport thingy.'

"True. But as long as you're helping to prevent the apocalypse, I can overlook that issue." Angel leapt over a large gap, grinning.

She followed Angel's trajectory with ease. "Least I'm working on them issues."

"Good girl."

"Thanks. Speaking of issues…" Faith fumbled on the next jump, gripping hard onto the tiles before Angel fished her up. "Hearing about Buffy grinding on version #2 of me kinda pisses me off."

"I don't know," Angel disagreed, "I thought it was a good sign. Becoming friends with this Faith makes it a good chance she can get on with you someday."

"Sure." Faith didn't bother to argue the point with Angel. She didn't want to explain to him how she felt like she'd been kicked in the guts. Neither did she feel particularly proud of mentioning the irrational jealously she felt for this other, more successful Faith. She didn't desire telling him how close the feelings pulled her into the very darkness she struggled against, and would probably always struggle against for the rest of her life.

Angel sensed something in her demeanour, and laid a hand gently on her shoulder.

"Redemption's a bitch."

She snorted. "You're telling me." She felt a little better.

When they made it back to Vllk's workshop, they found the old man speaking fast into a cellphone and jerking his arms in agitation. Wesley conversed with two other people over a cluttered table of books, ink, quills, and paper; both garbed in non-descript grey clothing. A small badge adorned their belt buckles, white and round with a charging black bull symbol.

"It is bad," one said in a voice so oily, you could taste the accent. "Not impossible, but more resources than the Lyceum could ever have."

"Could they do it?" Wesley acknowledged the bedraggled Angel and Faith with a wave and eyebrow flash. Faith went to her favourite corner, irritated to see one of the big animated clay things had taken up residence there as well. Witiezslav stared impassively, unresponsive to Faith's attempts to move it.

'Think it likes you,' Angel suggested.

"Oh, yeah. Laugh riot right here, me and it." She gave Witiezslav an icy squint. The golem appeared not to notice. It looked slightly ridiculous, hemmed in by the mountain of books and bookshelves. At full height, it almost scraped the ceiling. It made Faith think of an oversized bookend.

"We do not know. Perhaps. They are strong." The man talking with Wesley clenched his fists, resting them on the table. The other Lyceum member, Wentz, observed with careful neutrality. Although he understood what everyone said, his accent was so barbarous, no one English speaking could understand him. So he just didn't bother talking. He sat and occasionally drummed his gnarled hands on the table.

"What are you two on about?" Angel asked as he went past Vllk, still locked in angry discussion on the cellphone. Both Lyceum members shrank back as Angel wedged himself next to Wesley.

The Englishman beamed at him. "Oh, we were considering whether the Darkwalkers would be able to breach the Lyceum's shielding. Kesar thinks they may." He indicated the blonde young man with the thick accent. Kesar warily glanced at Angel before funnelling back into the conversation.

"We cannot allow it to happen. As long as they are trapped here, they cannot affect the world."

"Yeah, yeah, noble duty and all." Angel dismissed Kesar's stoicism. "But regardless of the big, bouncy barrier, there's trouble brewing on every Hellmouth on the world, right?"

Wesley shrugged agreement. "Yes, but we can hardly deal with other problems when we have this one on our hands."

Kesar nodded violently. "The source is here. The other corruptions can be controlled. This is the danger area."

"Please!" Vllk snapped, flinging the cellphone at Angel. The vampire caught it with fast reflexes, bemused. "Did your useless Lyceum guards even realise two Darkwalkers had escaped around a decade ago? I think not."

Kesar and Wentz both went white as paint.

"That's right," Vllk growled, eyebrows squashed together in temper. "My informants tell me we are missing one Rekhyt and one Balthus. Rekhyt has been sighted in Sunnydale. We have reason to suspect Balthus has infiltrated the Council, hence the amazingly stupid decisions coming from them that have resulted in this very situation in the first place."

Wesley gaped. "You know their names?"

"Only twenty of them are left in total. Of course we do. Balthus is insipid like the rest of their foul breed; but Rekhyt… now that is one I wouldn't want freed. He is like a child with a machine gun."

Bereft of speech, Kesar could only blink his anxiety. Wentz looked as though he wanted to find somewhere to hide.

"So, let me get this straight a sec." Angel slammed his hands down on the scrolls, drawing attention. "This shield you guys have is basically useless, then?"

Faith snorted, flinching when she realised she was using Witiezslav as a leaning pole. Vllk glanced at her, peeved.

"Do not laugh, girl. Those eighteen remaining Darkwalkers and their assorted plague walkers will seek you out especially. They have problems with Slayers."

"Doesn't everything," Faith muttered, folding her arms under her chest. Angel moved a lantern to the edge of the table, the light wobbling and casting distorted shadows on his face.

Vllk frowned at a bookcase. His lips moved wordlessly for a moment. "We are not without hope, though," he eventually said. "It's what you call a long shot, but we might be able to take the long way round to capture our foes. Since the exact spell details of the original trap binding them are a mystery, there might be another approach."

"Right," Angel nodded, dubious. If the minotaurs could escape the original binding, then what was to say they wouldn't again? As a short term solution though, if it worked…

The Lyceum guards watched Vllk as he ruminated. The shop door swung inwards and a shadow blocked the entrance. The other golem, Jan Hus, had returned, shuffling quietly into the store. When it didn't announce anything, Vllk continued his train of thought:

"The Sunnydale group can help us with this as well. We will all attempt to gather the components for a high level Mori locator spell. Rare as they are…"

"What does that do?" Wesley said.

"It's a special kind of locator that seeks out what we personally need. Needless to say it can deliver very contrary results, but if we all attempt to seek out an solution to this turmoil, it may show us how. I'm hoping it will show us how to reseal."

"You want us all to take part in this?" Faith asked.

Vllk nodded. "Yes. The spell is unpredictable enough as it is, should we get it working. Maybe someone will have the right wish."

"You got a list of that stuff then? I can call the others now." Angel displayed the cellphone. Vllk smiled grimly and fetched a piece of paper from one of the other tables.

*** **Sunnydale *****

Squealing the wheels to a halt, Buffy pushed the car door open and wobbled out. Her shoes squelched on soggy ground, wet from the week of rain. The mud churned grass led up to a barrier of trees, stretching out into thick woodland.

The Inner Slayer snickered. _**Could we do that with a little less crashing, next time? Whoever said you drive like a spaz, knew what they were talking about.**_

_I got us back, didn't I? _Buffy scowled as she examined the front of the mini for damage. The shy emergence of dawn made it easy to see. There were quite a few dents and scratches on the bumper and hood, as though the car had been driven repeatedly into things. One lamppost, two cars and a vampire, to be precise. Buffy was willing to admit she might not be the world's most dexterous and skilled driver, but something about the Inner Slayer's voice really grated on her nerves.

_**That's because the sound of me speaking is your own voice.**_

Yup. The Inner Slayer sure had a way of making her feel better. She wrenched open one of the back doors. Hooking a few shopping bags onto her arms, she closed it quietly and checked the surroundings where the mini was surreptitiously parked. Deeming it concealed enough from the main roads, she worked her way through the dense overgrowth into the woodlands.

She made it about four hundred yards in before needing to rest, letting the bags slip off her now bloodless arms. The physical result of her shopping trip showed up in the form of welts, scratches, and concealed scabs of blood. Also, her tank top was pretty much ruined. Sitting down, she gingerly lifted up the remains of the top to see the wounds. She didn't have much time to check them out earlier. The ground beneath her was slithery, but the new stains barely detracted from the many others smeared on her jeans.

"Whoever said shopping wasn't eventful," Buffy quipped, letting the top fall back down. The sound of a twig snapping drew her attention. She suppressed an grin.

Faith dropped in seconds later, barely rustling the leaves as she settled comfortably beside. She looked worse for wear as well. Her hair was a mess of snarls, split ends, and leaves. Muddy cuts bruised down her forearms.

"Hey, B," she whispered.

"Hey, yourself." Buffy examined Faith's face, taking in the very battered appearance.

"Checking out the goods?" Faith rubbed her eyes, yawning.

"Uh." Buffy shook her head, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "Too tired to think of a witty comment back. Where's your stuff?"

"Had to ditch it."

"You ditched it?"

The brunette let out a choking laugh. "Yeah. You've seen me today, right?" She displayed her arms, tentatively, applying saliva to the top of her hand to wash along the cuts. "Some vamp thought it'd be a blast to crash the motor. Met the business end of my stake."

"Good. Are you okay, then? Pointless as that question may be."

"Sure. bike ain't so good, though. Paint's busted." Faith sighed in irritation.

"I'm, uh, sorry?" Buffy had no idea about motorbikes, but she did know Faith seemed pretty proud of the one she'd 'borrowed' from a motor shop.

"Thanks. I'll survive. Yourself?"

"Good. Although I do have this lovely flesh wound. Caused, I believe, by a cheese grater." Buffy pointed to a ridge of raw skin on the side of her stomach.

"Nice. I get just boring knives."

Buffy couldn't take the sight of Faith salivating on her own arms anymore. "Here, let me." She pulled wet wipes from her tight jean pocket. The packet was mostly crushed, with about four wipes remaining; Especially Sensitive and Caring to Baby's Skin.

Faith snorted. "You walk around with these in your pocket…?" She held out her right arm, letting Buffy do the honours.

"Not normally, no," Buffy admitted, starting to clean/disinfect Faith. "But I do use these to remove makeup. All this running around and dealing with apocalypse stuff makes the mascara run like crazy, you know?"

"Sure," Faith replied. Buffy noted Faith's natural face appeared tired and haggard, and recalled their first patrol together since coming into this world, seeing the same ghost of exhaustion cleverly disguised under heavy eyeliner and foundation. Concern twinged. How long would this Faith last as a Slayer? The number nineteen floated into her mind.

The average life expectancy for their line of work.

_She's far too young to look like that._

_**And both of you are far too young to die.**_

_I know, right?_

A peculiar sense of guilt washed over Buffy. _**If I could change the terms of this contract with you human girls, I would. **_

Not sure how to answer that, Buffy catapulted herself back into the current situation. Faith watched Buffy's ministrations all the while with an unfathomable expression. Her dilated eyes caused Buffy's stomach to do little uneasy flips.

"This is getting to be a habit," Faith observed, one side of her mouth curling up. She offered her other arm.

"At least this one wasn't my fault."

"True. By the way, B - next time we decide to drive sixty miles out to the middle of nowhere to find a store still selling, I'm taking the car - _and_ I'm damn well driving." Faith regarded the shopping around them. Her eyes glinted in greed. One hand crept to a bag and started rifling through it.

"Nuh uh!" Buffy slapped Faith's wrist. "They're for everyone. I did not put my life on the line for sweet and savoury snacks just so you can wolf them all down.""Yo," Faith protested, "I could eat a horse!" She took the tissue from Buffy and worked on her face. She managed to glare at Buffy whilst doing it. "Serious, B. I'm the fucking driver."

"You're not that much better than me."

Faith held her tongue, but her expression said it all. _Yeah, right._

Buffy sighed, stretching her muscles until they cricked. "Sure. Whatever, F." Sunlight stabbed into her eyes. She squinted, feeling no desire or energy to move. Seeing the mud and the lumps of shopping depressed her.

"Faith. Move me."

Faith chewed on her lip. In the light they glowed amber, like feral cats waiting to pounce. "Move yourself."

"But that requires effort."

The brunette snorted, tossing the tissue away. Slowly picking up the bags, she hooked them all on one arm. With the other, she grabbed Buffy by the collar, hauling her upright. "This works as well. Let's get you back to camp."

"Gotta say, I'm not really liking the service," Buffy complained, as she was dragged unceremoniously along.

Apart from a few more snide remarks from Faith, they made it to camp without any more incident. In the dawn, the woodlands echoed with hushed birdsong, and the smell of damp soil and wood permeated the atmosphere. Although they spoke and trod softly, their arrival stirred up the group all scattered around the fire. Most were lying on the ground, asleep or in lethargic stupors. Xander was hunched up by the fire, feeding it a fresh log from the pile stacked up nearby. He gave the two Slayers a friendly wave.

"Well, If it isn't my two favourite superheroes! Do you come bearing gifts?"

"We come bearing gifts," Buffy replied, gesturing to Faith, who had all the luggage on her. "Faith lost hers, so I made her carry mine."

"Are you sure that's a good idea? She has a temper as thin as a breadstick. Maybe you should offer to take them back."

"Don't worry about me. I think I got her trained good."

"Guys. Right here," Faith grumbled, placing all the bags by Voirrey and Giles. Both Watchers commandeered control of the supplies, maintaining they were probably the only ones who could distribute the food sensibly.

Giles fumbled for his glasses, looking extremely peeved. "Could you all speak up any louder, please? I'm afraid I might be able to add onto the thirty minutes of sleep I've gotten so far."

Voirrey laughed, moving her blanket aside to help Faith start sorting through the new supplies.

A loud groan came from underneath a multicoloured blanket. "People have their mouths open. Sound is coming out. Shut up." Anya wriggled out from the blanket, appearing very, very disgruntled. Her hair flopped in an interesting mess over her face. "Please."

"Ann," Xander warned, placing a hand on his girlfriend.

"I said please."

Buffy took the food offered to her from Voirrey, and sat down with her legs crossed to devour it. She and Faith got considerably larger portions than everyone else because of their Slayer metabolisms. She mostly tuned out the noise of her fellow campers, where the bickering became almost routine because of the limited amount of sleep everyone got. Apocalypses just weren't considerable enough to stand aside for them, after all - especially in the clothes department. She only had three outfits, and the one currently being worn needed to be thrown.

Faith sat by Buffy, brushing her elbow against her bare arm. Buffy flicked a smile at the brunette Slayer.

"What's up?" Faith asked, shovelling food into her mouth with complete lack of grace and manners.

"Too much. My mind wants to explode," Buffy replied, finishing off her provisions with a bottle of water.

"Oh, we can't have that." Willow and Tara joined the Slayers, loaded up with their own breakfast samples. Willow's leg was in a makeshift wooden splint, wrapped tightly in rope.

"Did your trip go okay?" Tara's attention was on the bruise on Faith's face. The blonde spoke slowly, the horrific scarring on her face affecting the movement of her lips. Although her words sounded amiable enough, her single clear eye appeared crinkled in pain. A wrench of sadness went through Buffy. Tara didn't deserve this.

"Yeah, 'course. Whole thing a blast, Blondie."

"Oh, yeah. She only fell off the bike once," Buffy agreed. Faith glared at her as the statement caused a spread of worried expressions from everyone in the camp.

"Least I didn't crash the car like a million times because I'm a useless as hell driver."

"Least I didn't lose the supplies."

"Least I look way hotter than you."

"As if."

The banter continued back and forth like a tennis match, eating up the minutes. The tension in the camp lifted, relaxing into the familiar ease of another slow day. The banter was about the only thing that prevented everyone from becoming stir-crazy. Sunnydale remained too dangerous to wander into, and everything around them showed signs of the apocalypse. Buffy managed to snatch around three hours of sleep, her body urging her into it to kick-start the Slayer healing. She woke up to see people and about, exercising, talking, their voices blurring around her ears in a wash of sound. Someone rested their hand on her head, and murmured something. Faith? She dared a glance upwards, getting a view of the brunette's stomach, chest and chin. The vivid onyx necklace looped around her neck, twinkling in the sunlight.

_Am I on her lap? _Buffy processed the thought sluggishly. Yup. Her head was on lap territory. Squishy lap territory. Her face flushed in embarrassment, but rather than reprieve herself of the comfortable position, she squeezed her eyes shut, slowing her breathing to feign sleep. Her mind flashed with random images in a slideshow of all the worries weighing it down. Images of the apocalypse. Images of twisted Plague monsters wandering the roads of Sunnydale, their touch turning the living into the not very living. The Plague monsters were apparently made up of all the Wiccan sacrifices of the past two years. God knows what it was like anywhere else. Giles mentioned about every Hellmouth in the world having that stupid spell shielding them. So, make that seven or so Hellmouths, toss in a bunch of dead but animated spell casters walking around and blipping people out of existence, mix up some angry minotaurs escaping out of some pit in Prague, and sprinkle several waves of dark energy causing demonic activity all over the world to go haywire and lay siege to major cities…

It all added up to _Not Good _and _Duh_.

Of course, the other thing that annoyed Buffy, almost as much as the inconvenient apocalypse, was the information Giles and Voirrey chose to withhold from everyone. Information about the Angel Investigation team currently living it up in Prague.

Information mentioning the fact of another Faith being in Prague. _Her_ Faith.

Biggest. Mindscrew. Ever.

She didn't know what to think. She'd only really started getting to like and appreciate the Faith she currently borrowed the lap of. Accepting the sexual innuendos, getting past the obstacles she planted between them, and actually enjoying being in her company.

Then to find out the Faith responsible for the heavy history and pain and the issues in the first place, _her_ Faith, was actually here. In this world. The ocean that separated them didn't matter. How could Buffy not begin to appreciate the presence of the brunette with her right now, without drawing parallels to the one she urged to jail after everything they went through?

_Oh, not to mention, both of whom I nearly killed. _

_**Yeah, you are getting a track record for that.**_

Needless to say, Buffy had some issues to sort out in her head.

"I know you're awake, B." Faith poked her on the nose. "My legs are kinda dead. Need ya to move."

Buffy mumbled something in protest as Faith slid her off, gently placing her head on the blanket. Faith groaned in relief, lying on the floor and stretching all her limbs out to full length.

"Cold," Buffy said. In response, Faith tossed her own blanket over Buffy. After crawling out of it, Buffy glared. "Thanks."

"No prob," Faith grinned, dimples popping out.

Later on in the day, everyone took it in turns to wash in the nearby river, passing the hours as best as they could whilst waiting for news to filter in from Prague. Giles and Voirrey had no success contacting Angel's side, but left messages all the same. The breakthrough came mid-afternoon when Voirrey's phone began to sing out a series of beeps. The Watcher answered the call and put her phone on loudspeaker.

"_Hey, it's Angel. Anyone there?"_

Everyone stopped whatever they were doing, crowding around the golem to chorus out greetings to the vampire, including one: "Well, bloody finally!" from Giles.

"_Whoa, liking the enthusiasm," _he chuckled. "_Sorry we couldn't contact you earlier, but we had some pretty good reasons. Everyone here says hi as well, by the way."_

"_We do not have time for chit-chat," _an accented voice cut across Angel's; Vllk or whatever his name was. _"Tell them what we found out. Preferably before we die."_

"_Hey, hey, I'm getting to it! So. Cliff notes. We're all going to cast the Mori Locator spell. But to do that, we need ingredients."_

"Goody!" Willow exclaimed, clapping her hands like a seal. "Magic."

"I'm afraid I don't share the same enthusiasm," Voirrey intoned, shaking her head at Willow's excitement. "That spell is highly unreliable."

"_Vllk thinks it's worth a chance. We've got a contact for you, who will have some of the supplies. His name is Darius. Some demon guy. He's hiding out in Weytown, which is about a hundred or so miles from where you are. He's happy to give the goods to you for free - on the good faith we'll stop the end of the world. Nice of him, really. But just to give you a clearer idea, here's the actual ingredients:"_

Voirrey was already scribbling down the information, with both Giles and Tara leaning over to check what she recorded. She copied down Angel's information on the ingredients, before speaking up; "Alright, suppose we do this and then obtain the rest of the supplies. What if it doesn't work?"

"We could improvise some of the stuff," Willow said. "Substitute the Eye of Horus for an hawk eye and add a splash of Nile water to it."

"Good idea," Giles smiled at her.

"_Let's not go that far ahead yet," _Angel replied. _"You need to use a passcode for Darius. Fairly basic, just Mori and then Vllk's name. You, ah… may need to hurry. We think the bad dudes are closing in on him. They've gotten wind of the fact we're trying to counter them, and they're pretty desperate not to let that happen."_

Buffy smiled. "By all means, let them panic."

"Is that everything?" Giles murmured.

"_Almost. When you hit Weytown, you're looking for the Ritz club. Darius is in that. It's not a very big place, so you shouldn't have too much of a problem finding it. It used to be a popular hangout for some demon biker gang, so watch out for those. Wolfram and Hart may be hunting him down as well. All in all, be careful."_

"Thank you, Angel," Giles said. "Be safe."

"_Trying," _the vampire responded, his voice dry. The call ended.

"So…" Buffy began, choosing her words carefully, "We have to drive millions of miles to a shady area run by a demon biker gang, to find a shady dealer, to make a shady deal for some shady ingredients, then hightail it back before Wolfram and Hart and the scary minotaur guy and his army of creepy minions find us?"

"I'll do it," Faith interrupted. "Sounds like business to me."

"Not if you're driving, it isn't."

"I will confirm that Faith is an excellent driver," Voirrey said to Buffy, without a trace of sarcasm. Buffy stared at the Watcher suspiciously.

Faith stood up. "Better get ready. We'll be taking the Harley when we leave later."

"What?!" Buffy let her mouth hang open in horror. "You're not serious! Bad idea! Bad!"

Faith grinned impishly.

"Does it have to be your bike, dear?" Voirrey said with some distaste.

"You might give Buffy a heart attack," Xander agreed, trying and failing to hide his mirth. "She already looks around halfway to one."

"Oh, ha, ha. Mock the blonde." Buffy sighed and covered her eyes, falling backwards. "Do whatever you want to me. I don't care anymore. But at least let me change into some better clothes."

"We don't have any better clothes," Anya tilted her head as she regarded Buffy in bafflement. "We don't have money. And shops. And everything wants to kill us."

For some reason, Faith found Anya's statement absurdly funny. She laughed uproariously, on and on until tears actually came out of her eyes. Others joined in with titters and chuckles.

Buffy smiled as well. The sound of laughter had the distinct ring of hope. Hope was a nice thing to have.


	16. Chapter 16

Faith grinned. Buffy opened her eyes and peered around.

"Is it safe now?"

"Course. Unlike you, I don't crash into things on a regular basis." Faith prised Buffy's stiff hands off her. "This is our stop. Hop off."

"Never… Again…" Buffy fell off the motorcycle, a little wild eyed. She tugged the green helmet off and rolled it away. "I can't believe you made me do that. I'm freezing."

Faith smoothed out her hair in an overly dramatic fashion after hooking her own helmet to the back of the vehicle. "Admit it. It was wicked cool." She had fared better in her own leather jacket than Buffy in her wool one.

"I was terrified. Every second." Buffy recovered enough to stand, the dawn air alive around her. It felt comforting. What didn't feel comforting was the ruins of the town before them. Graffiti smeared the buildings. Broken windows aligned every house on ever street as far as she could see. Parts of the pavement were cracked and , and vehicles lay abandoned or damaged. Not a soul was to be seen.

"Our dude is somewhere around here?"

"Somewhere," Buffy echoed, shifting into a cautious gait. Her attention flickered to each piece of destruction. Her breath curled outwards in a translucent mist. "If he hasn't already been ratted out."

"Ritz, Ritz, Ritz…" Faith paced down one street, checking every sign for the name.

Buffy crossed the main road and stared down a narrow walkway to what looked like a residency block. She padded silently onwards like a cat. Faith watched for a moment, then continued her search, making sure she could sense Buffy through the connection. She didn't like how quiet and empty and broken the whole place was. It made her wonder if she was catching a glimpse into their future, witnessing the total aftermath of the apocalypse if they failed to halt it. Nothing but empty streets, abandoned towns and cities, with dust gathering in the windows and humanity forced to the wilderness. It was already happening near all the Hellmouths, but it wouldn't be global as of yet. The media had a lot to play on, though.

Twenty minutes later, Faith struck gold. A small sign, to be more precise. It swung and creaked on rusted chains, the writing almost faded away. She made out a black R and possibly a T, or L. An helpful arrow pointed the way. As good a sign as any, Faith decided. She sought out Buffy. Together they followed the arrow, finding a respectable sized club hemmed in between unused market stores.

"Well. Do we knock?" Buffy approached the door, balling up her fist. Faith tested the door. Locked. She readied and rammed hard with her shoulder, slicing it open.

"Guess that answers that." Buffy rolled her eyes and entered the rustic establishment.

Sofas scattered around the seedy club, dust-ridden and uninviting. The floorboards were in severe need of polishing. Most of the light bulbs and strobes were burnt out, with only three in the room emitting anything at all. Above the bar, a bear's head snapped at them, screwed onto a bronze plaque. An empty gun holster hung underneath it. Buffy went right up to the bar and examined the pumps.

"This looks promising. Maybe we should start running up a tab." She leant over and pushed one of them, only getting a thin, bottom of the barrel trickle.

Faith in the meanwhile examined the stairs and the two doors on either side of the bar, shouting out the key words.

"Maybe if you breathe deeper, you can get a little more volume from your diaphragm," the blonde deadpanned. "Why don't we split up, check the place out before you yell at every bad guy in the area where you are?"

"Cos splitting up is equally stupid?"

"True. Bad things happen to main characters who think wandering off alone in an haunted house is a good idea…" Buffy joined Faith by the stairs, pointing upwards. "You first?"

"Hem, hem."

Buffy froze, giving Faith a sharp glance. "You hear that?"

"Heard something."

"What did it sound like?"

"Like someone clearing their throat?" Faith took a couple of wary steps up. "From around here…"

"Hem, hem. Hello!" Footsteps pattered down, grinding to a halt when an old, wizened woman clunked in front of them. Only a few wisps of hair remained on her head, and her eyes hid behind glasses the size of mug-rims. She bent over in a permanent hunch, gnarled knobbly hands grasping onto a brown walking stick. Her jumper looked like homespun wool, knitted in a repeating pattern of pink, white, and grey. The jumper reached down to her knees.

_**Oh, fuck me, **_the Inner Slayer said.

"Ent you two _boo-tiful_," she cackled.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me." Buffy's hand went to her stake. The old woman cackled again, waggling her finger.

"Ah weel, steady on, dearies. I don't bite." Her features twisted into the familiar vampiric visage, distorted worse by the oversized glasses and prominent wrinkles on her face. She tapped the stairs with her stick. "You two, follow. Darius waitin' fer yer." She moved up the stairs surprisingly fast.

Both Slayers gaped at each other.

"The fuck?" Faith said, utterly taken back.

"What just happened?" Buffy demanded. "And why aren't we stabbing her already?"

"And what's with that accent? 'Ah weel'. Who the hell talks like that?"

A new voice bounced from upstairs, apparently addressing the vampire. "What's the racket about, Margo? Do you have our guests?"

"Yes! Both ready t'stake an auld woman, bless their hearts."

"I guess they are the Slayers, then. Well, come on. Get them up here!"

Completely mind-screwed, Buffy and Faith trailed after the vampire. Margo scampered ahead of them through a hallway, a large dance floor, and into a small room.

The room resembled a witch's lab. Cauldrons bubbled with viscous fluids. Skulls hung from the ceiling and draped from various ornaments. Some of them looked disturbingly human. Purple smoke wafted through the air from incense sticks. Their contractor waved at them. Red spikes pocked over his green skinned face.

"They said the code words, Margo?"

"I'm auld, not deaf. Heard them loud and clear," the vampire said.

'Oh, wonderful. Wonderful to have you both here. I've got everything sorted in some bags, right this way, yes." Darius ushered them over towards a couple of very large and bulky rucksacks. Faith the whole time had to resist the urge to do something about the vampire grinning at them in her creepy vampire way. Buffy seemed to be struggling with the same ordeal, giving the ancient vampire a look that would make Faith quail. Buffy's features melted into a wry smile when directed Faith's way, however. The brunette smiled back, feeling suddenly and absurdly cheerful.

"Tricky spell, is what you're doing," Darius burbled, unaware of the murderous intent in both Slayers over his pet vampire; "You need a good, talented sorcerer or two. Awfully unpredictable in the result as well, since your desire might not be what you need."

"Okay. So we grab the shit and go?"

Darius blinked. "Well, yes. Of course. Time is of the essence, speed is of the essence…" He appeared slightly offended.

"Cool." Faith pounced on the green rucksack, leaving Buffy with the noticeably bigger brown one. "Lets motor." _And get away from that vampire before I stab it._

"I have to ride with you again? My life is over." Buffy picked up the backpack, accidentally knocking a figurine to the floor.

"You can ride me instead, if you want." Faith winked. When Buffy muttered something under her breath and flushed pink, Faith chuckled to herself.

Margo, currently squinting out of the window, turned back to them. The pane of glass protected her from direct sunlight. "You lasses best be away from here. We got trouble."

Faith immediately tested with her Slayer senses, her good mood gone.

"Bikers?" Darius still displayed the offended look.

"Yes. And a whaddyeh call it - minotaur? Huge creature."

"Minotaur? Let me see." Buffy made her way to the window, flanked quickly by Faith. The vampire moved out of their way, a wise move on her part, since both Slayers were itching to stake something.

Beneath buzzed with activity. Faith could have sworn the town was abandoned less than half an hour ago. Now no less than two dozen demons (some ugly neon blue type she didn't recognise) clustered around what she guessed was their leader, straddling a motorcycle. Like a lot of typical hardcore bikers, he wore black leather all the way over. He even had spurs on his boots, if the glint of silver in the sun was any indication. His face was twisted into a Joker style grin. Faith identified the minotaur next to him with a surge of adrenaline and anger.

Rekhyt.

The demons hollered out taunts and curses. They pointed to the building and shook their fists. One particularly drunk individual threw an empty liquor bottle which smashed against the wall.

"Where the hell did they come from?" Buffy snarled, whirling on Darius in heavy suspicion. "I didn't sense them at all."

Faith bristled, drawing out her stake. "You do some kind of mojo, is that it? Stop us sensing them? Maybe get them to surround this place?"

"No, no, I assure you, no!" Darius frantically flapped his hands, a bead of sweat forming on his forehead. "We're only here to help! I have no idea how they're outside!"

Margo barked out a laugh. "What makes ye think they're after you? Lots of useful things here."

"Right, that's right!" Darius nodded, swallowing. "And maybe they won't be able to detect us past all the enchantments I've got…"

"SLAYERS! THEY'RE IN THERE! Do not let them escape! I want them." Rekhyt's distinct bellow reached them.

"You were saying?" Faith, convinced they'd been betrayed, raised her stake.

"Oh, come on already," Margo said in disgust, waving at them to follow her. "To the basement."

"Basement?" Buffy whirled on the vampire, restraining her instincts.

"Yes! Basement." Darius hurriedly gathered items scattered around the room, stuffing them into a knapsack. "There's an convenient entrance to the very large sewers underneath this town."

Faith rubbed her face. "Really." Her tone dripped sarcasm.

"Cliché or not," Darius informed them as he pulled a gun out of one of the cabinets, "We had the entrance designed years ago. This inn used to serve the demon populace, and they needed a way to get in and out without being seen. Plus, my clan owns the territory. Some of them were architects."

"Right." Buffy shook her head, eyeing Darius sharply as he belted the gun and strap around his waist. "I won't shoot a gift horse in the mouth, I guess."

"It's 'look' a gift horse," Faith said.

"Yeah. That."

Margo was already hovering by the door. The sound of smashed glass filtered up to them from below. "Could you be any slower?" She complained.

It didn't take long for the two Slayers to become filthy. The sewer tunnels were badly maintained. The particular section they travelled in was narrow and claustrophobic, but the only part that apparently avoided risk of clashing with a demon clan. Ahead of them was their only source of sight, a pale faced Darius holding a small flashlight. Margo pranced through a confusing swerve of tunnels, obviously knowing the area like the back of her hand. Buffy paced by Faith, taking comfort in her presence, but both girls expected something to go wrong at any moment. The tenuous trust Buffy placed in their guides would dissolve at the first sign of treachery. All the while she contemplated her current position. Preventing apocalypses was a thing she did. A regular sort of thing. Sort of like going to school, really. She didn't quite expect her world saving capabilities to be put to the test in _another_ dimension, though.

She still had no idea about what was going on from her own planet. Weeks in this place could mean hours back home, or the same, or more. Did her friends, the real ones, all give up on her? Or did they strive even now to return her? Buffy felt pretty sure the people here weren't really trying to get rid of her. Not that she could blame them. This apocalypse was nasty stuff. It seemed unfair to differentiate between the doppelgangers. These people were every inch the ones she knew back home, but with some slight altercations. Like Tara being just a little more confident. Xander more distant. And all of them pulling off amazing synergy with Faith.

_Faith_. Although she had finally come to terms with the concept that this Faith was not her own, it took Buffy a long time to do so. She actually kind of liked this Faith. Okay, so Buffy tried to kill her as well, but they seemed to be past it now. Getting on like good old chums. Making with the merry, and the innuendo. Buffy gritted her teeth. She thought about the Faith, _her_ Faith, currently mooching around in Prague. What the hell was she even doing there, anyway, instead of being in jail in another dimension? She'd tried so hard to accept this Faith. Now the one from her world decided to crash into the party. What next? A conglomeration of Faiths all popping from various dimensions to here? God, would this planet suddenly become populated with Faiths?

Buffy was so wrapped up in her torrent of thoughts and trying not to make her head explode, she almost crashed into the Faith in front of her. The brunette had halted, her breathing fast.

"Wha-" Buffy stopped when a scream rent the air. Darius' flashlight spun in a crazy arc, shattering into blackness on the ground. Margo shrieked in fury, and the sounds of a scuffle broke out.

"Run!" Darius snapped in the darkness, grabbing Buffy's shoulder and attempting to drag her along."

The lack of light made it impossible to navigate safely through the tunnel. The girls stumbled, tripped, all the while listening to whatever fight the vampire engaged in.

A bloodcurdling shriek broke out, sounding inches from Buffy's current position. She stiffened up, sensing out the danger. Something connected with her skull, sending her crashing onto the ground. Unconsciousness came fast.

"Buffy. Wake up." The voice whispered through the fog, gently sinking into her brain and pulling her out. When Buffy first opened her eyes, she thought she was blind. Her other senses heard the drip of water, the smell of moss and damp rock, a bitter taste in her mouth and a contrast of skin-numbing cold and vibrant warmth. All the lower half of her body had the heat siphoning out of it into the floor and walls. The rest of her was curled into Faith's body, who weaved fingers into her hair. The tremor in Faith's voice suggested she was too cold to talk properly. Their connection hummed, tethering Buffy to this reality.

Stubbornly, Buffy kept her eyes open to try and take in some small detail, some hint that she wasn't blind or trapped in some bottomless pit. When she stirred, Faith completely froze up. The hand in Buffy's hair retracted.

"Buffy?"

"That's me." Buffy slowly extricated herself, then thought better and huddled up as close as she could to her fellow Slayer, her teeth chattering. As if they weren't close enough, already. "And wow. Cold."

"Yes," Faith agreed, after a moment's apparent thought deciding to maintain the embrace. "Don't take this the wrong way or anything, but we're kinda in hot water."

"You don't say."

They slipped into silence for a little while. Buffy waited and waited for her vision to adjust. Nothing became clearer. No silhouette was revealed. Buffy could only imagine what Faith's expressions were as they held each other in this rather compromising position, warm as it felt. Without her sight, it was difficult to focus on anything other than the physical contact, their sounds and breathing bodies, the heavy atmosphere which hid secrets of the outside world in a black veil.

"What even happened? I got knocked out pretty quick, so…"

Faith moved to flex one stiffening leg. "Nothing good. No idea if that Darius and vampire are still alive. Do know we're missing the ingredients."

"Great."

"Yeah." Hot air blasted from Faith's lips. The connection fizzled with anger. "Fucking fantastic."

"It's not the end of the world," Buffy said. "Well, it is, but you know what I mean."

"End of the world sounds about right. You tell me. How the hell we gonna get out this one?"

Buffy of course, had no idea how to answer that. So she stuck to the tried and tested formula, reaching for words deep inside. "With a lot of difficulty, I imagine. But the last thing your world needs right now is for you to give up." Faith's breathing accelerated. Was she panicking? Buffy continued speaking; "The last thing anyone needs is you giving up. You're the Slayer. You were chosen for stuff like this."

"Being locked in sewers, facing apocalypses, and wondering which day will be the end? Yeah. Great stuff. Fucking cosmic joke, more like."

Instead of worrying Buffy, the words brought up a smile. She understood the feeling. "I hear ya." She risked leaning her head on the brunette's shoulder, finding it in the darkness by trial and error. "Which is why the first lesson of any good Slayer is: don't die."

Faith hesitated, before burying her face in Buffy's hair. "Good rule." The contact sent shivers through Buffy, and not all of them entirely innocent. Her own heartbeat increased, and she struggled to sort out what the oncoming and conflicting emotions meant. The connection hummed pleasantly.

"So yeah. Don't die, save the world, don't whine about it because if it's not you, it's some other girl…" Buffy knew she was babbling now, but being nervous always tended to make words jumble out. The conflicting feelings grew stronger. Something stirred within her, the kind of low down tickle that she associated with attraction, desire, arousal.

Oh God no. Attraction. To Faith? A Faith? Faith with the innuendos and smoking hot body which should not be thought about in an indecent way by someone who had a boyfriend waiting on the home world? Of course not. It was just the proximity, the heat of the moment, the fear of dying. That was it. Humans who believed death stood over them with a club tended to feel and do foolish things. Buffy gritted her teeth. There was no way in heaven or hell she should be attracted to the brunette. For a start, she was straight. Not gay. Willow wore the rainbow stripes, not her. Besides, she hated Faith.

She amended the thought. No. She didn't hate Faith. Not this one, anyway. This one was actually kind of nice, innuendos or not. Her mind went further back. Maybe she didn't really hate the other one, either. But it all got so messed up. How did it go so wrong? Why did it?

Buffy froze when lips pressed into her hair. Every single processing thought juddered to a frenzied halt. "F-Faith?"

The brunette moved her head. "You alright? You went quiet there."

_Uh, no, I'm not. Also, you totally kissed me. _"Yeah. I'm okay. You?"

"I'll survive. For now." She didn't sound too convinced. "Were you thinking about something?"

"What else is there to do?" Buffy blustered, glad now for the enveloping darkness, as it hid her blushing.

Doubt crept into the connection. Doubt from Faith's end. With dawning horror, Buffy remembered the connection worked both ways. What if the brunette felt everything? What if - what if she _knew_?

If she did, she didn't show it. "Could think of a few things. Best not say any of them out loud, though."

The blush intensified. "Best not," Buffy agreed. She swore she could _feel _Faith grinning.

**Prague**

Each second stretched out into infinity. Angel sat next to Faith on the rooftop, observing the empty streets below. The sun blazed above them. Sunlight. Angel had the barrier to thank for his venture outside, the second-hand rays touching down on his pale night skin without harm. Faith occasionally glanced at him, as though expecting smoke to start steaming out of his face at any moment. A few birds, tiny specks above them, settled on the translucent barrier. Plague beasts still roamed the streets below, but less avidly as they did without sun. Once they glimpsed a Darkwalker, a wisp of a monster gliding across the main plaza. It looked to Faith like a giant slab with horns.

"I wish they'd hurry up," Faith complained as she consumed a hard slice of cheese.

Angel squinted at the sun. "We all do. Giles and Voirrey seem to be quite concerned they haven't come back. I think they're considering preparing an expedition to Weytown."

"Not heard from that Darius guy, either?" Faith bit savagely into the last of the cheese.

"Nope. So the concern stretches both sides of the continents." Angel leaned forward, fingers splayed over his forehead.

Faith gazed sharply upwards when a violent ripple coursed along the barrier. "They're Slayers. They'll be fine." She pointed at the ripple, still attempting to remain flippant. "Maybe you should shelter indoors again, Fang. Ripples getting more frequent."

"That would be the sensible option. However, I want to stay outside and enjoy my brief tanning session." He grinned, stretching. Faith smiled as well, a small one, different from her usual brazen smirks.

"You smile more, you know. Than the other Fang," Faith said all of a sudden, before flushing. "Just something I noticed."

"He's a bit of a grim one, this other me?" Angel asked, interested. He had learned early on to pounce whenever the Slayer offered something personal like this, or otherwise she would back off from it in an embarrassed, angry fumble, or act like she didn't say anything at all.

"Something like that," she grudged out. "Still pretty much the same person. Annoying habit of trying to help people. He used to visit me in jail, see how I was doing."

"Us hero types do that." He stopped talking. Over and over, ripples appeared in the barrier, eight of them in one moment.

_That can't be good. _"You know, I think I'll take your advice and head under."

"Yeah," Faith answered, abruptly standing up as another surge of ripples shimmered overhead. "School's out."

"Shame, really," Angel sighed. He dropped down the side of the roof, hitting the ground hard. "I was quite enjoying all that sunlight after a couple of centuries without it."

"I'll send you a postcard with some if you like it so much. C'mon." Faith dropped behind Angel, hurrying him along.

There was one tense moment on their way back when a Plague monster crossed in front of them. They waited until it had passed, before dashing forward. They stuck mostly to the shadows, in case something went permanently wrong with the barrier and Angel ended up crisping to death.

At Vllk's bookshop, they couldn't find anyone. Candles sputtered on the tables, where paper piled up to around half a meter high. Chairs were still drawn out. Of Vllk, Wesley, the Lyceum scholars and the golems, there was no trace.

Nothing at all. No one had even the slightest decency in them to leave a note. Angel checked each table and wall to make sure, and the back of the entrance door.

"I don't like this," he muttered.

"Don't look like there's been any disturbance." Faith hooked a thumb in her jeans as she bent over Vllk's main work-table. "Nothing's broken. But they cleared out in a hurry, maybe. That's English's reading glasses there." She picked up Wesley's glasses, holding them pinched between her left hand fingers.

"Yeah, except without the clearing." Angel frowned. He really didn't like this. The lateness of the Slayers in California, the ripples in the barrier, and now this…

"They should be here. If the Slayers report back, we can surge forward in the plan." He touched the cellphone in his jacket.

"Yeah, sure. Take a look at this, Fang." Faith beckoned him over. If she was worried, she didn't show it on her face. He walked over, leaning to squint at the Prague Ascension Prophecy translations. Faith used the tip of the glasses to bring to attention the heavy black circles on the paper, and the scrawls in the margins. "Didn't the Czech guy freak out if anyone threatened to mark his papers?"

"Yeah. These weren't here earlier." Angel scanned the words in the circles. Wesley's writing. Both _Lightslayer_ and _Darkslayer _were highlighted. Others as well, but Angel's attention went to the margin, where a stack of squiggly handwriting filled it up.

_In context? Possible error? Translations not accurate? Possible theory, but what? Will take too long. _Angel could only pick out some of the words from Wesley's messy scrawl. The way the Watcher wrote sounded like he'd been talking with the others here, maybe jotting down parts of their conversation. _Lightslayer_ was also in the margin, but reinforced with heavy underlining near the bottom. _Needs activating._

"I have no idea what this means."

"I can't even read it." Faith shook her head at the writing. "But does it explain why no one is here?"

"Nope."

"Then fuck it." She swept the papers off the table. "Why didn't they leave us anything?"

"I don't know. We should wait…"

"Wait, yeah. But what if … ?"

Angel pushed Faith, sending her a kilter across the floor. She spluttered in surprise and annoyance. "What the f - oh." She moved deep into the corner.

_Oh, indeed. _Where Faith had been standing a second before, a plague monster now stood. Angel saw it shuffle from around the bookcases, fast and silent. He ducked and backed off, feeling sick to the stomach. _Did this… ?_

Faith reached the same conclusion. "Oh my God. That's here. That can't be here." The creature in question jerked at the sound of her voice. It seemed confused when she wasn't where it had lunged to, but her voice caused it to shamble in her general direction, knocking over chairs.

"Just because it's here doesn't mean they're dead," Angel blurted. He hoped desperately for the words to be true. His voice distracted the monster, long enough for Faith to make a break for it, dashing out the shop. The thing _hissed_ and followed her footsteps, ignoring any other noises Angel made. He tried throwing a chair at it. The table. Candles scattered onto the floor. The table sent it sprawling to the floor, as well as destroying a bookcase.

_Do they even feel pain? _The thing awkwardly crawled out of the shop, staggering upright.

Angel jumped after it, running into the alley. He saw two others coming his way, and in a burst of fear clawed up the drainpipe three stores down, almost breaking it in his effort. The barrier pulsed continuously above. He reached the edge of an awning and called to Faith. The Slayer held a plank of wood in her hands, torn from an empty market stall.

_Good. Some range. _"Climb up!" He yelled, looking around for a viable spot. She couldn't curve back to the drainpipe, not with the plague monsters blocking the way.

She ignored him. Or perhaps didn't hear him. She looked furious; terrified. More plague monsters were coming, A shadow appeared, and Angel knew the shadow belonged to a Darkwalker, one of eighteen in the city.

Helplessly, Angel watched. Faith whacked one darting monster aside with the plank, trying to plough a way through. _She can't let them touch her bare skin. _That wouldn't be good at all. One touch of the monster's veined, twisted hand and her blood cells would turn to ash, to dust, to nothing…

Four plague monsters pounced at once. She hit one, elbowed the other, ducked a third…

The last one grabbed her by the neck. She screamed.

So did Angel. _No, no, no, no, no -_


	17. Chapter 17

"Faith!" Useless as calling her name was, Angel's automatic stricken cry sliced through the air. More of the shambling horrors appeared, some converging on the brunette, who would already be turning to dust. Crumbling into broken atoms. He watched, heart sinking, for the moment ignoring the plague walkers taking interest in him.

Several seconds passed, and Faith remained intact. No - not intact - the veins around where the initial plague walker grabbed were turning black as ink. Did the progress affect Slayers differently? Faith collapsed onto her knees, yelling in pain. The discolouring travelled up her arm, faster and faster until it disappeared underneath the sleeve. A mere eye blink later it popped out of her neckline and fractured her face in spidery dark threads, spreading and staining each eyeball, her forehead…

Angel started forward, finally overcoming his dread of the walkers, not really knowing what he could do, only that he needed to do something other than stand around and gawk at his friend's impending demise. "Leave her alone!" Too little too late, but his voice jerked the curious plague walkers into a faster gait towards him, and drew the attention of all the others in the hot square, turning with fingers outstretched and limping across the cobblestones.

Faith's yelling turned into a wounded shriek, oddly distorted and inhuman. The plague walker holding her released its grip. Her body hit the ground, falling quite still.

Now Angel was in serious trouble. Reluctant to leave Faith, whatever her status, he swerved out of reach of the nearest plague walkers, darting around as he aimed for easy rooftop access. Thankfully the blasted things couldn't climb, a fact Angel fully intended exploiting. He boosted himself up a five metre wall, all the while cursing his inaction, disgusted with his inability to protect Faith. _Should have done something_, he thought. _Should have, didn't_.

Everyone else might be dead as well because he wasn't there. Wesley. That crusty Czech. Those weird assistants of his. Hell. He left Cordelia alone in L.A to die.

The Sunnydale counterparts broke the news to him some days back.

Ominous ripples persisted in the barrier expanse. Angel felt the first prickling of dangerous heat on his skin - a sign the shield grew close to total failure. Fast sinking into despair, he clambered up the next section of brick walling, making it to the roof and crouching, surveying the scene below. Spotting Faith's limp form, he curled up, not taking his gaze away. In all his years, he still didn't cope so well with loss.

One of Faith's arms twitched. Then the other. Her darkened hands flexed up, pushing her form into a kneel, like a stretching cat. Long brown hair obscured her face. Angel watched with anxious, desperate hope. Alive. She was alive._ Hang on. She's alive after they touched her?_

Faith's head snapped up. Black lines bulged on all visible body parts, with her eyes so dark they appeared like empty sockets. Similar to the walkers. The sight chilled Angel.

Faith, or whatever it was, let out a gurgling scream and flashed forward, running at the walkers with astonishing speed. The noise distracted them and they all turned clumsily around, only to crumble under her onslaught like torn paper in the wind. Limb after limb went flying, littering the square. One head smashed through a window. Another's leg thudded into the wall just below Angel. She made short work of her prey, dissecting with raw, savage power.

After finishing them off, she halted, breathing heavily. Her head flicked sideways, as if hearing something, far beyond Angel's range. A growl spat out of her mouth. She made as if to sprint off.

"Faith! Wait!" Unsure of what he just witnessed, but unwilling to let her escape, he jumped down, hesitantly walking up to her. She lashed her body around, adopting an aggressive posture. Angel stopped. "Faith?" Only now he noticed her crazed eyes. They weren't just shadowed - they left her face devoid of humanity. Was this actually Faith? Would she attack him? For a moment, Angel thought her capable. Twisted veins throbbed under her skin. She bared teeth. A black tongue dabbed at the top incisors. Angel took a few more steps, as if approaching a wild animal.

She flinched at the movement, before turning back around to run away. All without a word of explanation, or reassurance of her condition. Nothing to confirm her humanity. Dust kicked up in the air.

"No! Don't go!" Angel dashed after her, the sinking feeling back in force. Whether the person he followed was Faith or not, the last thing he wanted was to stay in Prague alone.

**California, America**

Meanwhile, somewhere in the sewers of Weytown, Buffy wasn't having much fun.

"You alright?" Faith whispered. Hot air trailed from her mouth. Buffy shivered in response.

"Y-y-y-yeah. C-c-old t-though." She clung tighter to Faith, in a vain attempt to leech more warmth.

"Really cold," Faith agreed. "Also, getting crushed here."

"S-s-sorry."

The warmth trapped between them was barely enough to endure the icy cold of the cell. Faith knew Buffy suffered it worse, however.

"How you holding, B? 'Part from the cold."

"F-freaking, mostly. And f-f-reezing."

"Freaking?"

"W-w-wondering how w-we'll get o-out of this."

"We will." Faith looped her arms around Buffy's waist. Caught by an idea, she pressed her mouth against Buffy's neck, focusing on exhaling hot air. In the darkness, every other sense powered up to compensate. Buffy's smell, shape, breath - everything about the elder Slayer became a source of interest.

"W-w-what?" Buffy's immediate reaction was to bolt, but Faith restrained her with a light touch.

"Relax. Ain't got much heat here, but this might help a little." She blew more warmth into the blonde's skin.

"O-o-oh ..." Buffy sighed. "Ahhh ..."

The sounds stirred arousal in Faith. She suppressed it to feign concern at the blonde's reaction. "Sure you're ok? Sounding a little strange."

"J-just taken by surprise," Buffy admitted, breath more than a little shaky. How much from the cold, and how much from something else, Faith could only guess. "T-this is nice. W-warm nice. Warm is nice."

"Uhuh." Faith smirked to herself. Had the situation been different, Faith felt pretty sure she'd be trying to jump the blonde's bones around now. Instead, both of them lay in a dank dungeon, freezing to death. That kind of thinking needed to go on the back burner.

"You know. I-I never could have imagined this," Buffy whispered.

Faith paused her actions. "What? End of the world? Being stuck here? Me breathing on your neck?"

"All of the above."

"Guess that's fair."

Buffy flinched from another exhalation of air. "Whew! Anyway, thing is, I think I was actually getting used to this world. Minus the whole Slayer voice and our not so great start and that Voirrey woman and the weird minotaur and the habit of going Slayer crazy. Then, boom! Apocalypse."

"Life's funny like that."

"I'm not laughing. I'm ... scared we're going to die. And how people will cope if we do."

"You won't die. Will make sure of it." The decision came to Faith in the blink of an eye. Deep in her bones, she knew it to be the right one.

It didn't take long for Buffy to process Faith's statement. "Don't you mean both of us won't die if you're going for the pep talk?"

Faith chuckled. " both know this sitch ain't so hot. If there's a good chance we're gonna be killed…" Faith paused, waiting for an interruption. When she got none, she continued; "If one of us can create some kinda diversion, you've gotta be the one to get out."

"What do you mean?" Buffy said, alarm evident in her tone.

"Remember the Prophecy? Two of me, one of you. I'm expendable. You're not."

Buffy inhaled sharply. "No, no, no, no, just no! No selfless dying. No noble sacrifice. Did I mention the no part already? Pretty sure I did. And no. You're coming back because people will be angry if you die. Screw it. We're getting out and going home. Ignore my whine from earlier."

"Can't. It's like this buzzing sound by my ear ..."

"Your poor attempt at humour makes me no less concerned."

"I know. Just saying, sitch looks pretty bad. Gotta be prepared for the worst. It's what Slayers do. I'll go down swingin' if need be -"

"- But I'm not prepared to lose you!" The words tumbled out before Buffy could stop them. Faith's jaw hung open. Clearly horrified at how it could be interpreted, the blonde then blurted; "I don't want to lose anybody."

Faith took a long time to answer. "That so?" She found Buffy's cheek, stroking it with her left thumb.

When Buffy felt Faith's hand flutter on her cheek - the gesture came so unexpectedly tender that Buffy struggled not to cry, or push the brunette away.

"Faith?"

Amusement took over Faith's voice. "Guess it's a safe bet to say you don't hate my guts anymore."

Buffy adjusted position. "Nice bet. Although I think you have it wrong. I never did hate you. Not really. Just kinda realising now."

"Aight. Good."

_Good_. Buffy smiled to herself. "That's the thing. Hanging around you is nice. I like it. I didn't even think I would. And ..."

"And ... ?"

"I never thought I'd like it. Like you. Have you as a friend." Buffy sighed. "Sometimes I wonder what will happen if I never got to return home. Or if I did." Buffy fought for the words to come out, wondering how the brunette would intepret them.

"Not the only one to do that, B." Faith's hand slid down to her elbow.

Something jumped in Buffy's stomach. "Yeah?"

The brunette scuffed her feet, uncomfortable with the admission. "Course. Kinda gotten used to having you around."

"Same. I think I'll miss this. Being with another Slayer." Having said her piece, Buffy exclaimed relief. "Wow. That was harder to say than I thought."

"Well, last time I checked, two Slayers in your place, only one here. It'd suck if you went. Be no one left to compete with."

Buffy noted the if, rather than when, and a lace of underlying bitterness._ Does she actually like me enough to care if I leave_?

"Sure, there's two Slayers, but she's not you." Buffy paused, before amending her statement; "Well, she is, but she isn't. Whatever. I know what I mean."

Faith by now had crept her fingers close to Buffy's wrist, perhaps edging for the hand. Buffy wondered how she would react if Faith tried to hold hands. Probably exactly like with the neck warming. Buffy suspected if she gave the brunette an invitation, it'd be taken up. Gleefully. Faith was scary and seductive like that. Realising she now seriously contemplated doing this, she tried to throw away the sudden brain explosion of Faith-related fantasies by remembering her boyfriend. He was so far away, though, body and mind. It would be so easy to give in, shrouded by their prison. Their incredibly cold prison. Their incredibly icy and freezing prison of not warmness.

On second thought, perhaps not.

Footsteps tapped in the darkness. Swelling in sound as they neared, the Slayers stopped all conversation and held their breaths, sensing the tell-tale sign of a vampire and a demon.

This was it, then. Fight, flight, or die. Neither intended much on dying. Of course, the situation didn't look good, either way. Surrounded by trouble on all sides, locked in an underground dungeon where not even the tiniest sliver of light passed through, without a means of escape or knowing where they were - the odds stacked up against them.

_At least we have each other_, Buffy thought.

**_Me or her?_** The Inner Slayer spoke from the shadows.

_Strangely enough, both._

The footsteps halted. Then, a knock.

"Psst. Lassies? Ye in there?"

"Holy fucking shit." Faith clamped a hand tight onto Buffy's. "Margo."

"Aye! That's me."

"And me," Darius added, voice tense with anxiety. "So, now the emotional reunion's over, let's get out. We don't have long."

Buffy laughed, somewhat hysterical, mostly disbelieving. "Please tell me this isn't some horrid dream where I wake up after and the hope I've built up gets crushed into nothingness."

A pause. "B, that was almost poetic."

"I have my moments. So, tell me?"

"Can do better than that."

"Ow!" Buffy flinched back from Faith's pinch. "Not cool."

"Margo, get them out before they kill each other?"

"Aye." Scratching filled the chasm between conversation. Then, a click of tumblers. One minute later, their door cracked open, revealing a glare of flashlight which lanced Buffy's eyes with pain.

"Ow," she repeated, shielding her face.

"Weel, don't just stand there, ye idiots. Get moving." Margo waved the ingredients satchel, which they had thought lost.

Faith went first, eyelids fluttering as she adjusted to the welcome intrusion into their darkness. Caution showed on every thread of muscle in her being.

"Why's it so quiet? Where's the guards?" Buffy inquired. Faith accepted the bag of ingredients from Margo.

"We've been watching their patrols for the past few hours. Your corner guards went off to investigate a, uh, disturbance by yours truly."

"Why come back for us?" Faith. At this, Darius shuffled, uncomfortable.

"Didn't seem right, leaving you."

"I told him to," Margo said. At this announcement, both Slayers gaped at the elderly vampire. Margo curled her lips into a malicious sneer. "Couldn't care less about ye two. But if you don't go and go what you Slayers do in the world saving stuff, there won't be much left to eat."

Now Buffy clocked it. "Makes sense. And to think evil could never be on our side."

"When it suits our purposes." Margo gave an exaggerated bow and accompanied Darius in shifting a loose section of wall. It didn't take long, and they squeezed through the narrow opening one by one, entering what appeared more as a cave tunnel rather than the rigid architecture of the sewers. They travelled for some time in silence, flashlights scraping the claustrophobic walls. Drips echoed in the distance. The gnawing fear inside the Slayers rooting from the chance of discovery lessened. Margo and Darius' obvious knowledge of the secret ways led them on, away from the pitch blackness to a place of light.

They halted next to a dingy steel ladder, cutting upwards to a manhole cover. Darius flicked his light between them.

"That's the way out."

"And our stop," Margo added, shining the flashlight on herself for dramatic effect. Wrinkles on her deep lined face fell into twisted shadows. "This skin doesn't tan very well."

"I still think if you tried putting on Sun Factor 50 and covered up, you'd be good to go in daytime."

"What on earth would I wear? A burka?"

"Okay, moving on." Buffy started climbing, cold hands gripping onto colder metal. At the top she gave the cover some good hard shoves before it popped aside, filtering in daylight. Buffy squinted, peering down to see Faith clambering up. Margo and Darius lurked just out of reach of the rays. Buffy felt the urge to say something.

"Thanks for your help, both of you. Whatever your reasons, I'm really g -"

" - Just bugger off already!" Margo's disgruntled tone hit back, "Before you get killed."

"Right, right." Buffy hefted Faith out of the manhole. They stared at each other. Both girls looked a mess. Dirt caked Faith's skin and hair, and tainted her clothes. Buffy wasn't much better off.

"You stink," Buffy said.

"You ain't exactly roses either."

Synchronised smiles leapt across their lips.

"Got a long walk back." Buffy glanced around, doubtful, tired. "And I'm not entirely sure where we are."

Faith grasped her by the hand, giving a squeeze, which Buffy returned after slight hesitation. "We'll get back, B. Whatever it takes." The utter certaincy in her tone put Buffy at ease. "Pretty glad I didn't have to do any heroic sacrifice."

"Har, har."

"But we got stuff to talk about."

Buffy swallowed, nervous. "We do." Namely, the sheer amount of effort it took for Buffy to keep a lid on her libido. She hadn't realised just how much she missed it until being slammed in close proximity with Faith, who was more or less very open in her sexuality.

When they checked down the manhole, Darius and Margo had long since departed. Covering up the entrance, they picked a direction loosely judged as south west and tried it, sticking to the sides of the road, their conversation quiet; their hope renewed.

Willow entered the campsite, her arms strung with bags, and extra packets of chips scrunched against her body. Voirrey and Xander got up to help, peeling the supplies off and adding it to their diminished stockpile. Anya was slumped against a sycamore, eyes closed, but brow furrowed in irritation from her obviously disturbed sleep. Giles emerged from a pile of blankets, his glasses askew, yawning. Tara ignored them, focused on a mirror, her free hand tracing over the knitted scarring. Gentle blue light pulsed from her fingertips as she chanted to encourage the healing progress, now the pain had dulled enough to personally cast spells.

Willow had provided a little of her strength as anchor in several sessions, but her main job remained on making sure they were undetected.

"Mmm. Crispy crunchs and sugery puffy goodness. You sure know the way to a man's heart." Xander tore open a packet of crispy crunch, pleased at the efforts of his best friend.

"I try." Willow selected a juice carton, pulling out the straw and inserting to drink. "Anything for you."

Voirrey grabbed two sandwiches, flashing a tight smile. "Thanks, dear." The Watcher appeared tense. She brushed aside the growing fringe of her short-cropped hair. "My phone still isn't able to connect with Faith's. It appears to now be out of order.

"Broken," Willow translated. "They never last long with the Slayer-y types."

"Indeed, that's very true." Giles nodded, gratefully retrieving a sandwich from Voirrey. He bit into it after prising the contents out of the enveloping plastic, wiping crumbs from his mouth.

"It's been nearly two days for a six hour trip. The chances they have run into trouble is high." Voirrey crumpled up her empty wrapper.

"It's Buffy and Faith. They're two remarkably strong women. Together, they're fine, I'm sure." Although Giles attempted to inject as much positively into his voice as possible, Willow caught the concern, the underlying fear. She couldn't blame either of the Watchers. Everyone was kind of hinging on the fact that their Slayers, defenders of all that was good, would return. Preferably unscathed. As usual, Willow sent a prayer to the Goddess, willing for their safety, and joined Tara, giving her girlfriend a brief greeting hug.

Tara put down the mirror, tracing her own jawline. "It's working. I've restored some muscle function and replaced some of the nerves and blood vessels." She frowned a little, before flushing. "It'll be a while before I can look anything like my former self. But there w-will still be scarring."

Willow placed her hands over Tara's network of scars and raw flesh, movements gentle like a butterfly. Checking for permission and getting it, she leaned forwards for a lingering kiss, wiping away the frown. "Tare, baby, you know how I feel about you, whatever happens."

Tara reddened more, but not from embarrassment. "I-I know, I'm just still ... not used to it."

"To love?" Willow kissed her again.

"Yeah." They rested foreheads against each other.

"That is so sickenly cute. Giles, we need to stop the cuteness." Xander mock-shuddered when both girls ignored him to continue cuddling.

"I want hugs too." Now Anya piped in, giving Xander a wide-eyed stare until he relented.

Willow glanced around the dishevelled camp that was their temporary home, wishing they could return back to their old lives. Not that life had ever been normal since being dragged into the realm of the Slayer, but at least it didn't involve the actual end of the world. They needed to act, and soon. Before it became too late.

"How's Angel's end?" Willow asked. Giles gave a doubtful shrug.

"No word, and no contacting them, either. Needless to say, although we lack news, no news is better than bad news."

Willow nodded, then examined her herb pouch. The pitiful amount it offered couldn't fuel much magic. Certainly no sun bombs, locator spells or anything, but enough to assist Tara on her healing.

Tara rested against her girlfriend, exhausted from the magic. Willow brushed away a straggle of blonde hair, revealing the wounds around Tara's ear for a brief moment. Tears welled in Willow's eyes, threatening to break free. For one horrific second, when Tara had been mauled, Willow thought her girlfriend was dead. That memory made it hard to breathe. A sliver of the horror crept inside.

Losing Buffy and meeting an alternate version almost three years later tinged her former grief from losing her best friend with bittersweet happiness. Comfort, Willow supposed, in that other versions existed out there. Other Buffys. Other Taras. But she knew one thing. She didn't want anyone else to die. It hurt too much.

Tara lightly massaged Willow's knee, catching her girlfriend's mood. "Don't be sad. It makes me sad, too."

Well, what could Willow say to that? Sometimes her girlfriend was too adorable.

Calm descended. For the millioneth time, Willow sent another prayer to the Goddess, hating their current helplessness.

_Oh Goddess, please help us ..._

Something triggered off Willow's senses. A boundary break on her sensory web. Bolting upright, hit by a quick dash of adrenaline, she concentrated. Voirrey noticed her demeanour. So did Tara, given that she was dislodged from her former position of comfort.

"What's the matter, Willow dear?"

Willow shook her head at Voirrey, shushed any further comments from anyone else with a flick of hands, still focused. "I sense ... two living auras. They've passed through the web."

_Could it be ...?_ Everyone else seemed to think the same.

"Is it Buffy and Faith? Is it? It better be," Anya said, neatening her hair. Xander started scooping up empty chip packets.

"Oh,_ now_ you tidy." Voirrey glared at Xander.

The invasive auras strengthened as they neared. Leaves crackled. All faces turned to Buffy and Faith as they stumbled together into the clearing, grimy, sweat-stained, but otherwise alive and relatively unharmed. A bagpack was slung over Faith's shoulder. Both Slayers supported each other, looking ready to drop.

"Miss us?" Faith rasped.

Willow beamed delight. "So very much!"

Cheers erupted from Xander and Anya, accompanied by their clapping.

"Thank you, thank you." Buffy bowed, unhooking herself from Faith. "I'll be taking autographs later." Without Faith holding her up, Buffy lost the energy to remain standing. She wobbled to the ground.

Willow sent thanks up high, before joining the others in assisting the Slayers to settle.


	18. Chapter 18

It didn't take long before things got underway. Already, the resident witches were up and running, organising spell details.

"This is almost everything we need, guys." Willow gave an excited, high-pitched squeak as she sorted out each ingredient, under the watch of everyone else.

"I think there's like, two more things. Is that right?" She directed the query to Giles and Voirrey, who both nodded.

"We could probably try invading the Magic Box in Sunnydale, if you know, you're up for battling hordes of demons and big bads in the process," Xander said.

"Yeah. Might be tricky." Faith wasn't paying much attention to the conversation. She was, however, paying attention to Buffy, waiting for the blonde to inject her usual wit. Buffy remained silent, just listening, arms clasped around her knees, feet tapping on the grass.

"We can substitute the final herbs," Tara suggested. "They're similar in properties to what we have. I Don't think the Magic box is an option."

Once, twice, Faith caught Buffy's eye, noticing the blonde staring, then quickly glancing away when discovered. Ever since their stint in the cell, Faith felt more aware of Buffy, more attuned to their Slayer connection than before.

"It's a little risky, replacing them." Giles picked up a dried herb. "But you may be right. Perhaps this is the only option availiable to us now. The Slayers did have a close call with Rekhyt."

"Tell me about it." Buffy leant forward more, now part of the discussion. "Bull-man knew where we were. We thought our contacts had betrayed us. But they didn't. So he's somehow keeping track of us out there, without Willow's magic bubble thing."

"Hmmm." Voirrey pursed her lips in pensieve thought. "It makes sense. Perhaps he's keeping watch on all magical sources and supplies around the area. It's not a far stretch of the imagination to consider he doesn't want any last minute trickery."

"And I believe you won't get trickier than us," Giles replied, satisfied for some reason.

"So, that's it then? Substitute? Or let our brave Slayers out into the wild?" Xander drove forth the question.

"As long as you don't turn me into a frog, I'll say not being killed by bull-man and his minions of evil is always a good thing." Finishing the sentence, Buffy stood up. "I'm gonna wash. In that nice river-ditch we got." Her gaze lingered on Faith, much longer than usual. To Faith's way of looking at the world, the eyes spelled out the message: _come fuck me_. Faith had to remind herself that this was Buffy, a person in serious denial of anything out of the heterosexual spectrum, from what little information she had mined out of their conversations. Plus that invisible boring sounding boyfriend she had also complicated things. And then there was that other Faith. Yeah, starting anything with this girl could only lead to disaster later on.

If Buffy decided to take her, though, Faith didn't think she'd be able to resist. Or want to.

"Uh, yeah. Me too. Haven't had a chance in ages." Faith waved everyone goodbye, heading after Buffy into the woodland.

***** Buffy PoV *****

Out of sight of the others, Buffy smiled at Faith as she caught up, dodging an elbow nudge.

"Real subtle, B."

"Ha. Like you aren't obvious. They probably think we're screwing right now. You saw their expressions."

"Xander had wicked buggy eyes," Faith laughed. "Could always let them think that, too. The screwing thing. Was one smokin' hot glare you gave me." She wiggled her eyebrows, in that annoying way Buffy didn't want to admit she liked.

"Best not." Buffy dismissed the notion, also pretending to ignore the smoking hot statement, flattering as it sounded in Faith's husky tone. They reached the river bank, settling between external tree roots overhanging the sides. Some snaked into the flowing water.

"You alright, B?" Faith shrugged out of her dirtied jacket, catching the blonde's negative vibe.

"No. Not really. We have an impending apocalypse, I'm tired, I can't put on make-up or have a shower, I've been wearing the same clothes for two days,_ and_ _what are you doing?_"

Faith had been in the process of removing her black tank top. Without a bra, her whole upper body was bared for all to see. Or rather, Buffy. "Taking a dip. Wasn't joking 'bout the wash."

"I-" The words stuttered in Buffy's throat, "You-"

Faith wriggled out of her pants, then underwear, grinning devilishy. "'Sup?"

"My eyes!" Finally, Buffy looked away, her face scarlet. "At least give me some warning before you do that! Ah!"

Faith snickered, but made no effort to hide. She waded into the river, which reached only to the top of her thighs. Certainly not enough to cover any offending parts on display.

"Why do you do this to me ..." Buffy risked a peek through her fingers, snapping her eyes shut after.

"What's the problem? We're both women. Not like I got things you don't."

Reasonable when she said it, except Buffy didn't want to look. Well, she did, but she didn't._ So confusing!_

**_I'd totally look. She's hot,_** the Inner Slayer purred.

"Couldn't you at least have kept something on?"

A memory of their temporary imprisonment came to mind. Faith's mouth resting against her neck, the warmth sending bone-deep shudders of pleasure through her body._ Don't think don't think don't think ..._

Nope. The brain insisted in going into detail. It also added extra events as well, possibilities which concluded with both Slayers doing things. Lots of things. Enough to make any porn movie director proud.

"Why? Don't see the prob." The brunette continued being obstinate, unaware of how much inner turmoil she created. Or perhaps she was aware, and enjoyed watching the conflict. Either way ...

"Faith, I have a boyfriend." The words blurted out before Buffy's brain could register and stop them. Faith crouched and leant forward, until just the tips of her shoulders, neckline, and head stayed above surface. The roots of her hair slowly fanned out on the water.

"Uh, okay. And?"

"And I'm straight."

She saw the glimmer of suspicion dawn in Faith's eyes. "Again, and?" Faith waited impatiently for Buffy to continue. Buffy knew she couldn't go back now. Eyup. She was going to regret this for the rest of her life.

**_Well, you might die tomorrow, so it may not be that bad._**

_Thank you for your valued contribution._

"I have a boyfriend, and I'm straight. And ... I think I'm attracted to you. I keep imagining ... us. Together. A lot."

Faith's jaw hung open, more in an expression of amazement rather than surprise. Buffy nervously folded her arms. "Say something, please."

Faith ran a wet hand through her dark hair. "Uh, you 'think?'"

Buffy flushed, self conscious. "Yeah."

"Hmm." A sly, calculative smile crept up on the brunette's lips. "That ain't good enough." She crooked a finger. "Come here."

At those words, Buffy thought her eyes would pop out. "C-come over? To you? To very naked you? No thanks."

"Not gonna jump you." Faith dabbed a tongue at the cleft on her bottom lip. "Just wanna kiss you."

"K-k-k-kiss?" Buffy's heart rate almost tripled.

"Test. Gotta see if you're really attracted to me or not. Saying you 'think' ain't gonna cut it." She crooked her finger again. "Well?"

Buffy hesitated, torn between desires. No turning back. Riley didn't seem important to her, right at this moment. She was a bad, cheating girlfriend if she did this, however. But maybe nothing would come out of it. Maybe they'd kiss and decide that was that.

She could also refuse. Try and take it all back. Laugh it off. But seeing Faith, fully naked, crouched in the river and smirking expectantly crumbled the little resolve Buffy attempted. Taking a deep breath, she calmed and steeled herself.

"Give me a sec." One by one, Buffy started peeling off her clothes. She enjoyed the hunger light up in Faith's eyes. Thrilled in the attention. Left in just a red bra and black underwear, Buffy decided to end the strip show. She ventured forward, bare feet sinking into silt and sediment, caressed by cool waters. Ankle deep, knee deep, she approached Faith. The brunette smiled, but didn't move from her position, observing Buffy in an odd way - as if wondering if Buffy really intended to go ahead with this.

Buffy's limbs shook in excitement as she bent down, meeting Faith on the same level. Faith looked hot, primal, never glancing away. The brunette jabbed at her plump lips again, tongue briefly lingering in view.

"I'm so gonna regret this," Buffy whispered.

Faith shrugged. "Don't have to do anything you don't want." When the mischievous smirk jumped again onto her mouth however, Buffy couldn't take it anymore. Grabbing a good chunk of the brunette's hair, Buffy leaned in. Their lips touched. Buffy wasn't sure what to expect if they kissed, but she didn't anticipate a roiling surge of arousal to hit and render her near breathless. She intended to just kiss and pull away, leaving it chaste. Or did she? Faith's lips were soft and pliable, much larger than Buffy's. They tasted like salt. Water splashed vigorously around them as Faith rose slightly out the water to curve wet arms around Buffy. A sharp gasp escaped Faith's throat when Buffy tugged on her tangled hair. This prompted the kiss to deepen, their mouths opening. There was a tongue - hers or Faith's? - and suddenly the kiss soared up a few notches, becoming a battle of lips and tongue, and much less about control - if there ever had been.

A moan slid out of Buffy. She unhooked her fingers from Faith's tresses and let her hands roam, gliding across the brunette's unbelievably smooth skin, down to her hips, across the taut abdomen, then up, hesitating inches from the nipples. Faith didn't reject the touch, instead arching her back to make access for Buffy easier. Nothing felt wrong at the moment, except for the burning arousal, half triggered by whatever urges lay inside, and half from sexual deprival. Buffy wanted nothing more at this moment then to give in, melt to the impulse and the wonderful, unfamiliar yet familiar presence Faith offered. Their Connection crackled, zinging pleasurable energy back and forth like a tennis ball.

Clinging to some last, desperate form of self-control, Buffy tore her lips away from Faith, withdrawing her hands. It took every ounce of willpower.

"Wow," Buffy said.

Faith, disappointed from the tactical retreat, recovered enough to snap out a smug eyebrow rise and knowing grin. "No way a straight girl kisses like that." She tried not to laugh at Buffy's dazed expression.

"Wow," Buffy repeated. She touched her own bottom lip with a finger, crouched like a frog in the water. "Just ... wow."

Fait floated backwards, allowing the rush of water to drench her hair. "Gotta say, B, I'm impressed. Glad we talked. Got things out. Or in. Definitely tongue action there."

"Oh, God." Buffy sank down, disappearing beneath the river for a few seconds, before bursting out with a wheezing inhale. Droplets flew Faith's way. "I kissed a girl. I kissed a girl. I only went and kissed a girl."

"Yeah. Was kinda with you on that part." Faith was clearly wondering if Buffy happened to be breaking down. Buffy didn't really know herself. She wasn't aware if kisses could lead to mental problems. Maybe it explained why people became crazy in love. Love? Wait, no, she didn't love Faith. Most definitely not. No way in a million billion squillion years. Ever.

_Ahh! Must stop thinking!_

"No, no, no, no, no! You don't get it. I kissed a girl." Buffy sent another hand-wave of water in Faith's direction.

"Uh." Faith now looked seriously confused.

Finally, Buffy calmed down enough to look at Faith without anything imploding. "Thanks. So much. You've turned me gay. I hate you."

Delighted realisation lit Faith up. "Welcome. Glad to know I still got it." Faith blew a kiss. Buffy rolled her eyes, but laughed.

"I really hate you right now."

Faith winked. "I know."

***** Tara PoV *****

Tara rested her chin on Willow's shoulder, raising an eyebrow when Buffy and Faith made it back into their camp. Their auras glimmered strangely, enfused with traces of endorphins. The Slayers sat down, not too close, yet not too far apart, and seemed to studiously ignore each other. When they caught eye contact, they either let the moment hold, or quickly turned away. Tara wondered how more obvious they could make it before someone like Xander noticed. Voirrey squinted suspiciously at them as well. Giles appeared engrossed in making sure Willow didn't fumble the spell. Anya was ... well, Anya. Smiling to herself, Tara examined Willow selecting the last batch of herbal powders.

She hoped the replacements would do their job. If not, after suffering some interesting side effects later, they'd have to look elsewhere for the missing components. Considering the last trip nearly ended up with two Slayers less, Tara really didn't want things to head that way. Willow popped the last ingredient into the stirring bowl. She, Voirrey, Giles, and Tara began chanting in Sumerian. Tara wasn't a fan of spells with Sumerian roots. Most of them tended towards the dark side of magic, with the potential to corrupt minds with prolonged usage. The Sumerian spirits believed all forms of power should come with a cost. Not like the gentle Goddess.

They finished chanting and fell silent, waiting patiently for results.

"That's it?" Wrinkles erupted between Buffy's eyes.

"Yes," Voirrey replied, disappointment evident in her tone. Giles appeared equally crestfallen.

"Perhaps the substitute components were not enough to satisfy the conditions of that spell, after all."

Willow, the main conduit of the spell, didn't seem disappointed like the Watchers. Instead, she acted confused. Worried. "I don't understand. I felt the magic enter and leave. It had to have gone somewhere."

"Lame." Faith picked at her teeth. Buffy turned to face her, then stiffened. Tara became alert. Buffy's aura, normally enveloped in light blue and shimmers of gold, darkened in tone. Threads of black wove into the beautiful blue colour, smearing it with ugly, tar-like blotches. Alert turned to alarm when Tara witnessed the same effect occurring in Faith.

"What's going on?" Xander, sensing the change in atmosphere, looked between the Slayers and the spell casters. Anya's hand went to her mouth.

Tara flinched when Buffy jerked her head skywards, spitting out a piercing shriek, before toppling backwards, thrashing in some kind of internal agony.

Faith immediately tried administering calm on Buffy, faster than anyone else could react.

"No! What's happening?" Willow's voice came out choked. She clutched at Tara on the verge of tears. "We did everything right, didn't we?"

Total blackness consumed Buffy's light, radiating outward. Smoky tentacles curled around Faith's arm, invisible to everyone except for Tara. The tendrils latched onto Faith's skin. Then they pulsed, thickening like leeches growing fat on blood, as though ... yes, they were drawing from Faith, taking the corruption, gathering it all up in Buffy's body instead. Faith recovered her natural green and silver. Buffy's darkness fluctuated wildly, worsening, poisoning her insides.

"Get away!" Faith snapped at them, struggling to hold Buffy down. "Get away from her now!"

Voirrey caught her Slayer's eye. Another one of their insider looks passed, which Tara would have found cute about a minute ago.

"You heard her. Hurry!" Voirrey seized Xander and Anya by the elbows, encouraging them to budge. Giles scrambled away, his shoes scuffling the grass, and he held a hand out to Tara. she accepted, pulling Willow with her as they all backed off.

Buffy's screams degenerated into a deep inhuman snarling that vibrated out of her stomach. Spider-web veins bulged on her skin.

"Come on, Buffy! Control it!" Faith fought as best as she could, but Buffy's efforts far outmatched her in strength. Buffy easily broke free of the hold, and seized Faith by the throat. Another snarl burst out the blonde's throat. She lifted Faith as if the brunette weighed nothing, suspending her like a puppet in mid air. Faith's survival instincts kicked in. Fear quickened in Tara's heart.

Whatever the Sumerian spell was supposed to do, this didn't look ideal.

"We have to knock her out!" Voirrey searched around for something, her reaction triggered by the helpless struggles of Faith. Buffy brought Faith closer, her lips twitching rapidly as if whispering something. Faith cried out, either from the painful neck grip, or from something else.

Buffy jolted her arm away, causing Faith to fly, then roll, before thudding against a tree. She promptly curled partway around the roots, winded, stunned.

Buffy stared at them with empty eyes, smiling a terrible smile.

Willow took one, two hesitant steps, intending to reach her fallen friend. Faith by now had detatched herself from the tree, displaying red cheeks, and a face scrunched in pain. Buffy - or was it? - intensified her snarling, as if to warn Willow off.

"Can you hear us, Buffy?" Voirrey addressed the corrupt Slayer. The Watcher grasped a stick in her palms. "Are you there? Can you control whatever is happening to you?"

The snarl transformed into a distorted, mocking laugh. Buffy swung sideways, heading to Faith. Crouching by the brunette, she grasped her by throat again, dragging Faith up, and slamming her hard against the bark. Faith's hands wrapped around Buffy's, which were once again squeezing her neck. Blood trickled from the brunette's hairline.

Willow, no longer frozen by indecision, started chanting a spell. Tara recognised the mantra as a binding, albeit one they had never really used in action before, and quickly lent what little remained of her strength to Willow. Voirrey and Giles, also quick to realise Willow's aim, did the same. Xander and Anya turtled behind them.

Buffy squeezed hard, her fingers bloodless with the effort. Faith's eyes bulged. She gnashed out words. "Buffy! Stop! You're ... k-killing ..." Her voice broke. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Her hands slipped from Buffy's hold, hanging limp. Tara saw Faith's aura flicker, dimming, dying.

"Xander!"

A source of magic disappeared from Willow's attempted binding. Voirrey, following Xander, darted across the clearing, faster than Tara would have expected either of them to manage. Xander barrelled into Buffy. Both he and Buffy went down on the grass. Faith dropped like a stone, body crumpling on the ground. Voirrey at first reached out for Faith, then changed her mind, hurrying instead to Xander and Buffy. The blonde, screeching in fury, scratched at Xander, gouging red lines into his left arm. She gripped him tight, leaving him unable to pull free.

"For God's sake, you stupid woman!" Voirrey bellowed, slapping the Slayer. This enraged Buffy further, but also loosened her dangerous control over Xander. Xander yelped and rolled away. Tara closed her eyes when Buffy launched herself upright, picked up the Watcher and slammed her into the ground. Something cracked. Giles unpeeled himself from the spell, trying to assist the debacle of a situation, leaving Willow to effectively channel the whole thing alone.

Willow continued barking out the words. It took her four retrys until a funnel of blue light shot from her fingertips, zinging into Buffy, and rendering her motionless. The blonde, at an awkward angle, teetered, before hitting the ground, limbs splayed like a crab's. The last of Willow's power dissipated. Tara felt Willow's sensor barrier fade away, without anything to keep it running. Leaving them vulnerable to discovery.

Voirrey levered herself from the grass, crawling over to Faith. Every centimeter looked like it took the Watcher effort. Buffy snarled, dark eyes wide in mad fury. Xander carefully stepped around her, joining Voirrey and Giles to tend to Faith.

Faith came to, air whistling through her compressed throat as she inhaled.

"You're alright, dear, you're alright." Voirrey stroked Faith's hair, sounding on the verge of tears.

"Are you alright as well, Voirrey?" Giles examined the Watcher in concern.

Voirrey shook her head, eyes hooded, mouth narrowed. "I think I broke a couple of ribs. I'll look later."

" ... Ribs?" Faith's voice rasped, almost inaudible.

"Ssh, dear. It's alright."

Willow, Tara, and Anya, ventured over at last. Anya pointed at the unmoving form of Buffy. "We have a problem," she said.

"We do. What's up with Buffster?" Xander held Anya by the waist.

Giles readjusted his askew glasses, lips trembling. "I believe she isn't Buffy."

The Buffy thing's neck was taut with corded muscles in her efforts to break the binding.

Voirrey, still checking Faith over, winced. Breaking free for a moment, she inspected herself for damage. When she lifted up her top, it was clear from the distended stomach and impacted rib-cage that not only she had broken bones, but something else had ruptured. "Goodness," Voirrey said, faint. "I think I'm bleeding internally." She pressed a finger against her stomach, teeth biting hard into her bottom lip.

Faith, recovered enough to move without becoming dizzy and collapsing back down, panicked at the revelation. "V! V, you need a doctor."

"Possibly," Voirrey conceded. "We wouldn't happen to have anyone trained in any form of medical care?"

A grave expression scrawled over Giles' face. "If you're bleeding internally, we'll need an outlet to prevent blockage."

"P-perhaps." Voirrey clenched her teeth, finding it harder and harder to function with the pain.

"Are we all going to die?" Anya said, jittering on the spot. Tara bent by the fallen Watcher, probing as best as able for the extent of the injuries, how serious they were. She could do this with direct skin contact, but she was so anxious, so aware of Buffy's ominous aura pulsing in the background, that it took several tries to focus. Finally identifying each injury, with a nod to Giles and Voirrey, she scanned the area for something sharp.

"I-it's not too bad. Blood letting would help relive pressure on her organs. But it has to be treated now. Y-you should find something to cut her open." Turning to Xander, she reached out to touch his arm, checking for anything else. The scratches were pretty deep, shredding parts of the bicep muscle.

Over the fuss with Faith and the Watcher, Buffy remained stationary, heaving against her invisible bindings. She and Faith made eye contact. A curl came to her lips, like a taunt. Faith forced herself to leave the gathered party of friends, anger brewing within. Clenching a hand, she walked over to Buffy, and delivered a tremendous blow to the side of the blonde's head, rendering her unconscious. Then she walked back over to check up on her friends.

That took care of that, then. Faith scowled, a red cloud of discord settling in her aura as she folded her arms, settling back down.


	19. Chapter 19

Everything hurt. Each atom inside Faith cooked up more pain, increasing and increasing beyond anything she had ever experienced before. Just when she believed it couldn't possibly get worse, it proved her wrong again. All she could do was scream. Her mind boiled. The trauma sent her neurons haywire.

Something cool and soft blanketed her body. It prised her broken soul away from the agony. She drifted in numb shock for quite some time, swimming in and out of consciousness.

Presently, her mind stopped running the memory of the pain. She became more aware of the new situation. The lack of hurt and bodily sensations left her sluggish and disorientated. She wasn't drawing air through her lungs. There was no eye blinking or throat clearing. Just a light, floating feeling in her stomach, giving the impression of levitating somewhere. _Where?_ Above the world.

_Am I dead?_

**_I hope not._ **

It took her a while to identify the voice. _Oh. You?_

_**What else would I be?** _

She reflected on the statement, unable to think of a counter. _What happened?_

**_You were clumsy. You got caught. Idiot._ **The peevish tone registered with Faith. Her thoughts became faster.

_No n_eed to be so damn insulting about it. _Crap happens._

**Tel_l me about it._ **

_So. I got caught. What's going on now?_

**_Not too sure. Whatever just happened to you appears to have dragged me out of the subconscious part of your brain. I 'm somewhat running the show now. _**

_What?_ Indignation took over Faith. She continued floating in the strange, ethereal reality she found herself in, trying to make sense of what she felt and saw. Colours flickered in cloud-like formations around her. _You mean we've done a switch?_

**_Yes. Normally you'd have to be dead for this to happen._**

This confused Faith. Huh?

**_Part of the binding contract in this world, I believe - before the Council stopped the process. I'm supposed to get your body once you die. Work some extra mileage, I guess._**

_Oh. Am I dead or not, then?_ The thought disturbed Faith. She didn't want to die.

**_How man__y dead people talk, duh? Wait, don't answer that._**

_Yeah. Dumb question._

_**You're such a smart ass at times.**_

_I try. So. If I'm not dead, and you're in my body, what the fuck's next?_

**_Not sure. Can you take it back?_**

A reasonable request. Faith had no idea where to start, but she tried, anyway. she poked around the void, seeking some kind of niche, anything to hold onto. It took a minute or so, but she eventually detected a familiar presence on the outer rim of her awareness. Her physical body. She reached out for it ...

And recoiled, hissing in pain._ Ow! What was that?_

_**No good?** _

_Don't look so._

**_How does it hurt?_**

_Feels like it'd kill me._ The thought struck Faith, raising up her fear. _Will it?_

The Inner Slayer took a long time to respond. **_Maybe. You were touched by those things.  
><em>**

_Shit._ Faith could believe that, if the searing reaction when she tried re-entering her body was any indication._ What do I do?_

**_Not much? Better wait to see if you're capable of regenerating from it. Til then, guess I better ride. You can be backseat driver though, promise._**

_Can that work?_

**_In theory. I'm not in total control of your body yet. It's running on mindless demonic instinct. Demon energy's like that. Can just about stop it from killing Angel, but might take a while to assume full control, if I even can. Just give me some time._**

_But ain't the energy coming from you?_

**_Ye-e-e-e-e-s. But it's a corrupting essence for humans. Your mind and body is reacting to it out of my jurisdiction. You fleshlings just ain't made for this stuff._**

**_... Such bullshit._** Faith didn't have much choice in the matter. The least she could do was accept the situation as gracefully as possible. Even if most of her mind raged against the unwanted situation.

Fortunately, in this drifting state, she could reflect on her rage with some hindsight, understanding the lack of need for it. The conflicting perspective took some getting used to. Maybe she was dead after all, and neither of them knew it. She had to trust that the Inner Slayer harboured no intention of overriding everything as long as she still existed. Trusting didn't come easy to her. People always betrayed you, sooner or later.

If she dwelt in the same position as the entity ... it would be too good an opportunity to miss.

Blue and gold colourings swirled around Faith. With shock, she thought she recognised the colours, but had no idea how. Hesitantly, she sent out a mental probe.

_Buffy?_

The colours seemed to flinch in on themselves. Then, slowly, gradually, they coalesced into the shape of the blonde Slayer. Her expression was one of utter shock. Faith mirrored it.

**_Well. This is unexpected._**

**Sunnydale, California**

Birdsong penetrated the otherwise quiet woodland. Buffy, knocked unconscious for the fifth time that day, lay on one side of the clearing. Everyone else took up the other side. Every single time the blonde stirred from her forced slumber, she gnashed her teeth and growled, black eyes focusing on Faith. Anger because Faith was responsible for knocking her out? Aggression because of the pull of Faith's supernatural energy? Either way, the blonde had an abnormal interest in Faith, even going as far as to twitch fingers through the oppressive binding towards her. Willow recast the binding at every opportunity she could get, though the rate of her magical regeneration got longer and longer between attempts.

"She's not changing at all," Faith said. Tara, now bandaged up and out of immediate danger from her injuries, nodded in sad agreement.

"We can't very well keep up this act with her for any further length of time, either." Giles.

"We can't kill her," Faith said. The words were as empty as she felt. The more she repeated them, the less she could convince herself to follow them. Unless Buffy snapped out of this state soon, it was likely killing might become the only option.

Xander glanced around anxiously. "I'm not exactly a fan of making her dead either, or leaving her behind. So what do we do?"

"I still don't understand why the spell acted as it did." Willow wrung her hands in distress. "It was supposed to help us! This is a nightmare."

"How the hell do we reverse this thing?" Faith scowled at Willow for an answer.

"If it indeed is reversible." Giles addressed their biggest concern with the manner of one carefully stepping over a minefield. Willow shook her head helplessly.

Faith gritted her teeth, feeling a combo of dismay, anger and fraustration at her inability to do anything. A cold wash of realisation hit when she bent over the fallen Slayer.

This could easily have been her, tied up and frothing mad. So why not? Why the hell wasn't she crippled?

"Y'all saw me with that black shit B has, right?" Faith waited for confirmation. When she got it from Giles and Tara, she pointed at Buffy. "So why ain't I like that? What happened?"

"Faith, I really don't know anything about this. Sorry." Willow, still tearful, sniffled a bit.

Tara, to everyone's surprise, raised a hand. "I-I might."

"Do tell." Giles regarded his new potential source of information in interest. Tara, never a fan of extreme attention, leaned forward so strands of hair fell to conceal parts of her scarred face.

"I saw their auras. It looked like Buffy somehow absorbed the energy from Faith. O-or that the energy didn't fully root, so found another nearby source. Either way, it went from Faith into Buffy."

So. In other words, Faith got lucky. Sitting down by Buffy to keep an eye in case she awoke, Faith wrapped hands around her knees. As the others continued their talk, Faith tuned them out, not wanting to hear anymore.

She should have been daydreaming about the super-hot kiss between them, thinking about the various scenarios she and Buffy might have together. Not be on guard duty for a possessed Slayer. Not feel a tight pain in her chest which she couldn't explain.

The fact Buffy did what she did in the river was amazing and a mindfuck all in itself. How could the blonde kiss her and not think about the Faith from the other world? How would Buffy even dare such a thing at all?

How could Faith let it happen?

It was insane to even consider. If Faith suffered the same thing - having two carbon copies of someone she had serious hate-love issues with, yet somehow found them attractive enough to tongue hockey with ... hell no. She'd get out of dodge screaming.

_I'm freaking_, Faith thought. _Like a girl._

Provided they survived this stupid situation and miraculously got things back to a state of near normalcy, she and Buffy needed to talk. Or not talk. Or pretend it never happened. Talking made it sound like one of those damn relationships. Was this a relationship? Grunting in annoyance at her conflicted mind, Faith rested a fist against her temple, closing her eyes.

**_Danger,_** the Inner Slayer hissed. **_We've got incoming._**

"Shit." Faith sensed hostile, demonic presences closing in on them, wondering why she hadn't noticed earlier. She scented the air, checked everyone's status, saw Giles on the verge of sleep, and Voirrey heading that way. Dusk by now covered their camp, making the time ripe for vampires and other creatures of the night. "Guys! Guys, we gotta move. Wake up, G-man!"

Giles blinked tired eyes open. "Hmm?"

"Demons. Coming. Now!" Faith resisted the impulse to swear at them.

"You're kidding me, right?" Xander straightened up from his comfort position with Anya.

Faith glared.

"Not kidding. Oh boy." He went pale.

"Shit." Voirrey echoed Faith's sentiment. Swear words didn't sound right, coming from the female Watcher - but Faith couldn't blame her for the choice of language.

"I can help if you want." Xander looped arms around the Watcher. Voirrey's weight caused Xander to stumble. Their first few steps went painfully slow.

"We're not going to get particularly far like this." Voirrey tried wriggling out of Xander's support. "The cars are too far off. It may be best to leave me here."

"What is it with you people ..." Faith rolled her eyes. "Xander, ignore her. Anya, help him as well."

Anya had the good grace to obey.

"W-what will we do about Buffy?" Tara raised up the next tricky question. The blonde Slayer, still comatose, lay in an uncomfortable position in the grass. The magical bindings did their job too well. Giles scooped up two bag-packs full of food and water, but left the other items. Willow grabbed blankets.

Tara hesitantly went towards Buffy. "We should take her?"

Faith shook her head. The invasive presence of the incoming monsters riled up her Slayer instincts. "Can you lot unbind her? Be easier to carry."

Willow bit her lip, distressed. "I don't know how. I can only cast it."

Voirrey shrugged. "I'm not familiar with the spell."

"Me, either." Giles appeared apologetic. "Sorry." Tara delivered the last no, leaving Faith even more annoyed. Things just got better and better.

"Got no choice then. I gotta hold them." She splayed her fingers, jerking her wrist as if slapping everyone away from her. "Go, already! They're nearly here!" At their protests, Faith blanked them out. "Don't worry 'bout me. Five by five here. Will see you later."

When the last of her friends left, Faith attached her knuckle dusters on, a pounding mix of fear and adrenalin writhing in her blood. Barely seconds after the last departure, the first of the demons arrived. Their pace was fast, much faster than her friends could ever travel by foot. She roared in challenge, designed to get them all to focus her. Two plaguewalkers, emerging from the foliage, made an beeline for her. Several demons, keeping a relatively safe distance from them, leered at the sight of Faith and Buffy, isolated in the clearing. Faith's nostril's flared when a misshapen creature, bigger than the rest of them, came into view. Cloven hooves thumped the soil. Muscular, bloodstained arms spread wide as if saluting her. It bared lips in an open grin, revealing a vicious set of shark-teeth.

_An elder vamp. Fuck me._

A sound caused Faith to look down. Buffy growled, her blackened eyes fixated on the plaguewalkers. Judging by the awkward angle of her limbs, she still couldn't move. The pervasive influx of demon scent had obviously triggered her revival.

_Good._ Faith took some steps to the side._ Maybe I won't be ripped to shreds first if she breaks free._ Faith rubbed her neck self-consciously.

"This is a pleasant surprise." The elder vampire clicked his tongue. The plaguewalkers tottered to an unsteady halt. Several vampires fanned out around them, cutting off the opportunity of escape. "You've been hiding out here all this time? Not the most ingenious of places to choose."

The vampire waited for a response. Faith was too busy calculating. She needed to somehow hold them off. At all cost. If these things reached the others ...

She tested her senses for any demons not in line of sight. More lingered at the fringe of her awareness, but as far as she could tell, this was an expedition led by that damned elder.

The vampire, evidently disappointed at the lack of response, now showed interest in Buffy. "What's this?"

Buffy managed to prise her mouth open enough to bellow out a distorted growl, the kind which pierced Faith's ears and made her flinch. Faith expected the vamp to scorn them. Instead, an expression akin to fear swamped his face in the encroaching dusk.

"Everyone. Kill the Slayer on the ground."

"Awh. One little growl got you scared?" Outside, Faith painted a mask of mocking disdain. Inside, she knew it'd be near impossible to defend the blonde if they all attacked at once, let alone put Buffy in a corner to stop their access. And then there were those monsters which killed with a touch.

"Nothing personal. The boss wants you dead. He's not too happy you got out of his cell. Speaking of dead, how's the little blonde witch? Tasted nice."

"You." Hate flooded Faith.

"Kakistos. You is impolite."

Faith reached for a stake, feeling additional surges of loathing. She disliked vampires in general, but this one needed to die. Right now. Armed with weighted gloves, a stake, and a one-shot pendant which she still wasn't entirely sure how to use, her fighting advantages were almost non-existent; unfortunately, also a pretty normal situation for a Slayer.

She hesitated. Two vampires attempted to swerve past her for Buffy. Faith cracked into action, taking a heavy right stomp into the biggest of the two - some one-eighty centimetre dude with an absurd wispy moustache on his distorted features. The other one, a more lithe black-haired female, dodged the collision. Faith rolled off the large one, and yanked the female by her long hair, bringing her to a swift, lucky death as she stumbled back onto the stake. Big Boy swiped at Faith. Three more vampires took advantage of the distraction to get Buffy.

Desperately, Faith executed a double elbow slam into the big one's face, forcing his arms away from protecting his chest - and therefore allowing her to end him. Quick, simple close combat, just like Voirrey taught her. No flair needed. She mechanically transitioned from move to move, offsetting the other vampires.

She almost got caught. With a yelp of surprise, she careened out of reach of a plaguewalker that had actually blindsided her. The other's warped frame joined the vampires, who all hastily moved aside.

Risking it, Faith threw the stake at the creature nearest to Buffy. Not only did it seem unaffected by the assault - the stake melted right into the creature's torso.

"Fuck!" Sweat prickled Faith. She couldn't stop them. In fact, she wondered why the vamp bothered sending his other minions when these kill-with-a-touch monsters were more than enough for the job. She got her answer in the form of his blood-lust infused face. He didn't care who died. At all. Just as long as someone did.

As if sensing peril, Buffy renewed her efforts of breaking free of the bindings. If only Willow hadn't fixed them one last time ...

Faith's needle-sharp gaze rested on Kakistos. Too little, too late, but he commanded the monsters. He needed to die.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to Buffy. It made no difference, but it was the least she could offer.

Breaking free of the encirclement by sheer speed, Faith picked up a spare stake from the pile of items on the ground, holding it in her right fist like a spear. Kakistos flexed his huge muscles, getting ready to either dodge or brace for the impact. Shock raced through her system when Kakistos made no effort to stop the lunge. The stake sank in deep in the direction of his heart. She vaulted backwards, alert.

Kakistos didn't look as if he intended on converting to dust. He cackled at her, before plucking the weapon out, dwarfed in his huge, clawed hands. "These don't work, girly. Better luck next time. Not that there will be one." Winking, he tossed the stake out of sight. In the same second, he swumg a fierce punch and uppercut her way.

Noise erupted behind Faith. Unwilling to look, but noticing Kakisto's momentary distraction at the commotion, Faith punched him, putting all her force behind the dusters. One, two, three, four, left hook - her best efforts caused Kakistos to grunt and smack her, as if she were a fly, sending her hurtling backwards. Undeterred, she regained balance - and got spun by a passing vampire with a missing arm.

Eyes wide, Faith whirled on the blonde she'd left to die. Said blonde was on her feet, clearly not bound, making mincemeat out of the plaguewalkers.

"Huh," Faith said.

**_Understatement of the century._**

One walker's leg came sailing across the air. Faith avoided by ducking. It hit Kakistos with a wet slap. The vampire bellowed, the sound a mix between bull and lion. Faith sensed his movement. She barely avoided the stomp. She didn't avoid the grab, though. He lifted her up and snapped at her neck with a mouth large enough to bite clean through. She thrust a palm into his nose, as if holding a dog at bay. She felt his clawed fingers gouging her. The vampire shook his head violently. Faith's palm-hold slackened, and Kakistos took the opportunity to chomp down on her forearm.

Motivated by pain, Faith scrabbled with her free arm for the pendant - the one she had forgotten about in all this chaos. With her knees she went for his stomach. His teeth sank deeper. With a last burst of strength, Faith ripped the pendant off its chain, and shanked it in the brute's eye. He roared in shock and pain, releasing her at last.

"You little bitch!" he spat in her face, flecking bits of blood all over. He swiped at her, scoring a blow beneath her jaw. She took the hit, tasted the copper on her lips, and started laughing when sunlight exploded out his ruined eye. It was giddy, I-was-an-inch-from-death laughter, which stopped as quickly as it began. The light shimmered, cracking out over his body. It took him a while to die.

Whatever satisfaction Faith experienced vanished when a snarl alerted her to Buffy's presence. The blood kept oozing out her arm. She needed to bandage it, to make sure nothing was permanently damaged, that infection wouldn't set in - but vampires were coming in the darkness, tacking down the bloodscent. And Buffy was free.

"Please," Faith said.

Buffy walked past to watch Kakistos finish burning. She didn't budge until only an substantial ash pile remained. Then, fast as lightning, she launched at Faith. Faith, groggy and finding it hard to stay focused, ended up on her back, not for the first time that day. The empowered, psychotic blonde on top of her pushed a hand onto Faith's chest to restrain.

Wha - Faith sucked in breath. Buffy sniffed at her, black eyes unmoving. When she hesitantly placed fingers on Faith's neck, squeezing with soft pressure, Faith yelled out: "No!" And with her last vestige of strength, bucked the Slayer off.

The blonde licked at her finger, which was smudged with some of Faith's blood, unperturbed by the reaction. Giving one last glance, she then got up and walked off, into the shadows, leaving a weakened Faith confused and in pain on the ground.

Faith exhaled. For a moment, a briefest sliver of a moment, she thought Buffy might had been in there. With a grunt of exertion, she rolled onto her knees, starting to use her top as a makeshift bandage for her wound. She was in no state to follow the mad Slayer. She needed to return to the others. Angry at her dilemna and solution, she scooped into the vampire's ashes until she fished up the pendant, now a dull, glittery black. She clutched it tight.


	20. Chapter 20

Buffy stared. And stared. And stared some more. "Let me get this straight. Our bodies are possessed by the demon-y leftovers of the Slayer-y stuff inside us, but it does that because it's freaky demon-y stuff which possesses people."

Faith, drifting at some indeterminate point in front of Buffy's vision, shrugged. "Check with your little voice if you don't like it. Hell, I still ain't sure what's going on."

**_It's all true. We're in the space between._**

_And what in great muppity Odin is that?_

Faith displayed her perfectly white teeth in amusement. "Yunno, I pull a face like that when annoyed with it, too."

"Huh?" Jerking back to their sense of reality, Buffy contemplated the problem, yet again. They couldn't get back into their bodies, and not for want of trying. It felt as though hours had passed in this place. They were stuck in some weird limbo accompanied by the voices of their inner Slayers, who also happened to have more control over their bodies than both humans did - but not that much more, since apparently their driving skills were even worse than Buffy's.

The idea of swapping direct places with the voice and becoming the thing in the back of her mind, Buffy could almost wrap her thoughts around it, almost comprehend.

Faith, however? The Faith of all the issues Buffy experienced from her in the first place? What the hell. Why were they even here, together? And why weren't they ripping each other's eyeballs out?

"Remembering the good old days?"

"With you, the word 'good' doesn't really come to mind," Buffy shot back, regretting the venomous words the moment she said them.

"Ah, and you're miss goody-two-shoes? I'm-right-you're-wrong-gal? Seem to recall my own knife being shoved into my stomach. Sorry, can't stab me here." Faith smirked maliciously. "Insubstantial shit going on. Just stuck with my company."

"You were bad. Stabbing bad people is what I do." Again, Buffy wanted to kick herself. Why did Faith make it so damn easy?

"You missed." Faith tapped her heart. "Shoulda got me here."

"And what the hell was with the body snatching? Sleeping with my boyfriend?" Buffy deliberately ignored Faith's statement, despite feeling a peculiar twinge in her chest.

However twisted that girl became, how far off the rails into fuck-up valley she'd penetrated, Buffy had never wanted to kill her. Not really.

In all honesty, she felt the rage dimming the more she tried to inject it, as if clinging to a bad habit. The reasons, all the reasons swirling in her head as to why she disliked Faith - once so convincing - now they just didn't matter. Not anymore.

"Surprised he didn't notice myself, guess you're a lot wilder in bed than I thought. Still though, a normal guy - not quite the same stamina a vamp can give, huh? You know, the vamp you tried to kill me for, and split up with like a month later?"

Buffy almost went for Faith then. Almost. The mocking sneer in the brunette's voice certainly asked for it. Buffy then thought of the other version, the girl she'd kissed, still in California, doing God knows what. How could two of the same person be so radically different?

Faith interpreted the long pause as something else. Tendon lines appeared on her throat as she clenched teeth. She swallowed, took a deep breath. "Sorry."

Buffy withdrew from her reverie, one eyebrow raised. "Huh?"

Faith's bottom lip tightened, rose. She glanced away, fidgeting, the complete opposite of her aggression a moment before. "Said sorry." Another pause. "Is all."

_Apologising._ Something panged inside. Buffy dropped her gaze as well._ I said I'd kill her if she ever did._

_**Here's a funny thought. How 'bout you accept this time?**_

_How can I?_

**_How can you not?_**

Buffy realised the Inner Slayer was right. Realisation opened a door in her brain, in her heart. Light, harsh light flooded in, as if drowning her in truth. How could she not?

This Faith lost her Watcher. This Faith didn't have friends - except maybe Angel.

Only circumstance separated them. Not their core personality. Tiny little choices and moments, here and there. If anything ... Buffy raised her head.

"I'm sorry, too."

Faith, drifting in the surreal surroundings of their makeshift location, now exhibited shock. "Did you just apologise?"

"Yes."

"To me?"

"Ye-e-ess ..." Buffy wondered where Faith headed with this. "Are you gonna beat me to death for saying that?" She attempted a weak jab at humour. To her utter astonishment, Faith's lips turned upwards. It was the same smile she found so endearing on the other Faith. For a moment, Buffy lost all trail of thought.

"You okay?" The brunette, cautious about her words now, obviously unwilling to break their sudden and unexpected camaderie - folded her arms in front of her chest. The smile faded, as if remembering she didn't have much to smile about, so planned not to break it out again anytime soon.

"As okay as finding an out of body experience with a former enemy can be," Buffy deadpanned.

"Former enemy?" Faith picked up on the phrase in interest.

" I ..." How could Buffy explain it? "I don't want to hate you. I want to forgive you."

"You want to?"

Buffy nodded. "I'm getting there." Staring at the brunette before her, a mesh of conflicting emotions arose: the sting of their past mixing with the few good memories they did share. The straightforwardness of the Faith from this world, and the belated realisation these people were one and the same - but separated by a series of different choices and chances. Mentally, Buffy outlined their key differences, not trusting herself to say anything more. Their words always became twisted anyway, travelling down paths neither of them originally intended. It was the way of things.

The Faith Buffy had kissed - not nothing she wanted to overthink on, given the obvious implications that came with kissing someone who pretty much was a clone of someone else she claimed to hate - or at least hold intense emotion for.

This world's Faith had things going for her. Sure, the world was going to hell - literally - but before all that, she had friends. Buffy's friends. Because Buffy had died? Possibly. She hoped not, though. This world's Faith was more open, more mature. Why?

Stable motherly Watcher, check. If Buffy lost Giles, or, God forbid, her mother - she didn't know how she'd cope. She knew how Faith coped. Not well. There was no super gnarly vamp this time though, responsible for the Watcher's killing.

Shunting the distracting thought out of mind, she sighed. It didn't excuse anything the Faith in front of her had done. Not really. But at least she understood a little more. Was it enough to forgive? Maybe. Buffy certainly didn't make things easier. She had problems of her own - mainly dealing with Angel._ Ah, Angel._

The silence between them stretched into an awkward length of time.

"Wonder if this was spose'd to happen." Faith broke it, indicating themselves. "Ending up here." She gathered her thoughts. "Well, to you. I'm the tag along. I came along by accident."

"Well, Willow did a spell to help us find a solution for the apocalypse, and it kicked me out my body. It's possible. You, though? I don't know."

Faith scowled then. "Getting dragged into your mess like this ..."

"Not my fault," Buffy shot back. "Deal with it."

"Trying. Been here ages. Can't escape."

"Ehem. Hello there, Slayers." A new voice cut through the monochrome like scissors, making both girls jump.

"Who the fuck are you?" Faith narrowed eyes at the newcomer, floating closer to Buffy, defensive in posture.

"What she said." Buffy examined the intruder, unsure of what to make of him/it. He could have been male, but his voice came a little too high, the shape of his body behind the roman-style toga a little too smooth all around. His skin glowed an iridescent silver. Storm-blue eyes travelled between their forms in interest.

"Forgive this little visit, but let's make things clear. I am a conduit for the Powers That Be. You know. The people pulling strings up there." He pointed vaguely above them. "Presumably you know about the Powers That Be. Yes?"

Buffy and Faith nodded, dubiously.

"Good." He clasped his hands together. "I've been sent here to pretty much tell you that we're short on time. This world - the one you've been stolen to - is dangerously close to organ failure. But that's not the problem. The real problem is, that you two only have about a week left before your absence in your home-world will start to impact the balance of good and evil. So in one week's time, you'll be returning home."

Buffy's mouth hung open. "Huh?"

The conduit smiled. "You were always on borrowed time, here. But both of you are needed. This world is meant to be a winner, but things have worked out against us. You know the whole multidimensional thing we have going on? Yeah?" He waited again for their nods, obviously conscious of how much they were really taking in. Which wasn't much. "Half the realities win the fight against evil, and half lose. It's kind of a delicate balance. This world absolutely cannot lose or the balance will start going heavily towards evil. But it did lose. It lost Buffy Summers. It stopped this Faith Lehane's ability to truly fight by suppressing her power. So you're both here to win it for them."

Faith, still defensive, shook her head, eyebrows scrunched in annoyed puzzlement. "Whatever you are, quit the chatter. Don't care about that shit. How did we get here? How do we get out? Are you gonna help on that point? 'Cause if not, fuck off."

The conduit looked offended. "You do realise you're talking to the emissary of higher beings, right?"

Faith scowled. "Don't care."

"Fine. You're both here to complete your ascension. This world has an interesting demon gift for the Slayers in question. You have your normal boost of power. And then you have the transformation state. To put it simply, we need you both to achieve transformation into the demon inside before the week ends. And you can only do it with each other, because your power is split between you both, instead of being in a single Slayer. Then you can do your jobs, save the world, everyone goes home happy."

Things started clicking into place. The power Buffy felt inside, the suggestion that came with it, the voice that spoke. She always knew, somewhere, she could lose herself to it. Become something more and less. Less human, more powerful. More accomplished in her duty. More destructive.

"So you dragged us here to figure this out?"

The conduit nodded. "Yes. I'm not allowed to help more than this. It's already a little fraudulent I'm here, but we really are running out of time, and neither of you are close. For Power's sake, you're two continents apart from each other. You were supposed to meet, but you didn't." The conduit wrapped his silver arms in front of his toga, clearly frustrated. "I have to depart. But please. Communicate. Talk to Balkir. It wants to help. And find the link between yourselves. It will make things easier."

The conduit was quite suddenly and simply gone.

Both Slayers stared at the empty space where the invasion had taken place.

"What," Faith said, "Is Balkir."

**_Me,_**the Inner Slayer said. _**Just the source of all your power, no problem.**_

"Shut up." Buffy waved her hand at Faith, dismissing the brunette's mood. "I'm thinking."

"I don't even know what just happened! That thing said nothing about how to get out. He just ninja visited and said shit and left. Like, what?" Faith's anger bubbled at her helplessness to get out the situation. "Buffy, did you get anything?"

"I did." Buffy stared at Faith, drawing the brunette into reluctant silence. "And we have to connect."

**Faith POV, Sunnydale, California**

"So, what? You dusted him?"

"Sort of." Faith touched her tender neck for what must have been the hundredth time that evening. "Then Buffy ran off. Wanted to go after her but I remember what happened last time I did that."

"I'm so glad you're okay." Willow embraced Faith, quickly joined in by Tara and Xander.

At the edge of the woodland, Giles and Voirrey's cars were parked side by side, their fronts half-nuzzled in upward sloping grass. Mud caked the tyres, and dust the windows. Faith's Harley rested at a tilt, helmet locked in a polycarbonate box attached on the back.

Voirrey stood with her back to them, one hand spread on her bandaged stomach, the other helping rest a cellphone against her ear as she tried contacting the others in Prague. A charger plugged into a battery container in the car stretched a wire into the phone.

"Where can we go now, Giles?" Xander directed the question. Anya frowned.

"What he said."

"Anywhere but here," Giles replied. "There is a Council safehouse I know of, but it's a considerable distance away, and the Watcher who owns it is not ... a fan, if that's the word? - of my methods, or the fact I've had in my charge two successful Slayers. It's a great honour to be picked for an active Slayer, you understand. Still, he cannot refuse if I come knocking."

"I like that you have backups." Xander nodded approval. "Makes me feel less like screaming my head off and then running around like a chicken. Without the head."

"Why can't we stay here?" Anya pointed at Sunnydale. "The problem is here. You lot are supposed to save the world. If I wasn't cut off from my powers ..." She left it hanging.

"You know, you have a valid point." Xander kissed his girlfriend on the cheek. Faith observed Voirrey in the background, talking quietly on the phone. Was she speaking to the people in Prague, or recording a message on an answering machine?

Anya, still on track, shrugged. "How can we seal the Hellmouth?"

Giles wrinkled his brow, the glasses dropping a centimetre down the bridge of his nose. He pushed them back up. "We could ... if we found six witches and warlocks willing to sacrifice themselves, perform the blood hexagon spell again."

"No!" Faith spat vehemence, making fists, also echoed by Willow and Tara.

"Yes." Giles stared through his rimmed glasses, cold, dispassionate. "If that's what it will take to save everything else, then it must be done. I'm willing to accept alternative methods, but it is becoming increasingly obvious we're running out of options."

Faith couldn't believe what she was hearing. "It ain't right."

"No. I quite agree with you. It's not." The shadows of the evening and his decision invaded his features, making him appear much, much older. Faith refused to agree with him. A part of her knew he made sense. But she didn't want it.

"I can't believe Buffy went like she did." Xander changed the subject, scratching at his thick woolen sweater.

Again, a cocktail of conflicting feelings arose in Faith. She went through the fight against Kakistos again in her head, and of the end, when Buffy had spared her. What did it mean? Why had the spell done this to the blonde?

Making said blonde incredibly powerful. An icy sliver of a notion came into Faith's mind, slid down her spine. Was it possible?

"Hey. Y'all." She managed to find her voice. "What if ... what if the spell you did worked?"

Eyes gaped at her.

"What?" Xander said.

Then Voirrey came off the phone and approached them. She held the cellphone up triumphantly. "I caught what Faith just said. And it may very well be possible. Vllk thinks so. He's mentioned something very interesting happening from his end. Listen up."

**Angel POV, Prague**

Shafts of sunlight poured through the mud-encrusted windows. Dead bits of skin and dust curled in the heated air. Wesley sat by the sink, draining yet another glass of water. Wentz rummaged in the fridge, getting out a dry piece of cheese, probably well past the sell-by date.

Vllk and Angel watched out one of the frontal windows. Both golems were stationed outside, their impressive clay forms there as a deterrent between those inside the house, and Faith. Faith, in her disfigured, demonic glory, paced around and around the courtyard. Every now and then, a plaguewalker or demon wandered in. The number of corpses grew by the hours.

Angel examined Faith in nervous excitement. When he'd followed her earlier, to his delight, he caught the faint scent of human blood, leading him straight to Wesley. Giving up the chase on Faith, he joined with the people he previously thought dead, with admonishments from them. ("I wrote a note. We had to move in a hurry. Can't you read?")

One of the walkers shambled into view. Faith erupted onto the hapless monster with a shriek of furious and elated energy, decimating her foe in a matter of seconds. Vllk and Angel retreated from the windows when she fixed those black eyes on them, face tight in predatory intent.

Any attempts by them to reach her humanity had failed. Whatever was driving her now, it refused to let her move from this location, where they all hid, content to butcher stray demons. As long as it wasn't slaughtering everyone in the house, Angel didn't mind.

"Amazing," Vllk whispered, silently counting the number of dead demons. "This is what the older documents talk about, in the days before the Cruciamentum." He wiped muck from his glasses. "If I could access the Lyceum again, I'm sure I can find something that will describe how it works, exactly."

When Faith's routine patrol neared their house, she looked at them blankly, those sinister, weird eyes flitting between them and the golems. After a brief moment of indecision, as if calculating whether it was worth the effort to punch through the golems to get to the people inside the house, she was off, pacing once more to the other end of the court.

"My heart leaps every time that happens," Wesley admitted, daubing sweat off his forehead. He began filling up another glass of water.

"It proves there's something akin to conscience, inside there." Vllk placed a gnarled, bony hand on the window frame, fingertips scraping through peeling paint.

"Or laziness," Angel said.

Vllk tsked, unamused by the words. "Of course, she's effectively the cork to our bottle. Supplies will not last long like this."

Wentz looked guilty as he continued chewing the cheese.

Four plaguewalkers in irregular formation, came out of a main streetway, attracted by the earlier commotion. With a roar, (Vllk believed she was deliberately baiting them to come by making so much noise) the brunette leapt at her newfound prey, adding to the dead's number.

"How many does that make slain now? Fifty? Sixty?" Wentz joined them, licking his fingers for the last remnants of cheese crumb.

"Close enough. Voirrey has shared the information that her group preformed the spell as suggested, and it's induced a similar state in their own Slayer. Our descriptions matched. The veiny corruption, the eyes, the manner, the increased strength and fighting ability ..." Vllk grinned ghoulishly. "She thought their spell a failure, until then. I think this was meant to happen. I believe this is what the Prophecy actually signifys." He stabbed a finger at Faith. "Dark hair, darkslayer. And in Sunnydale, light hair, lightslayer. This is logic. This was why your Powers insisted on the previous Slayer being alive." He then frowned, temporarily pushing pause on his connective reasoning. "So was she never meant to die ...?"

Wesley, following the thought process with intense concentration, put down his glass. "Perhaps not. I've got another idea, too. What if this Faith's arrival when we dragged Buffy into our world is not as accidental as we suspected? As far as we can tell, only the Slayers not originating from here have been affected by this ... condition."

"It looks that way." Angel placed fingers to his lips, nails digging into teeth. "But I'm kind of hoping this isn't permanent. She's a double-edged sword."

"Agreed." Wesley squinted in thought.

"If we could find a means to control her ..." Vllk followed the thread, a peculiar expression much like greed coming into his face.

"But we can't." Even as Angel said it, he wondered. Whatever was happening to Faith at the moment, she still seemed to recognise him. A Slayer's instincts were wired to beat the crap and stake any and every vampire in range. The fact Angel still lived proved pretty compelling.

Faint shimmering from the city-wide barrier reminded Angel of its presence.

"At least our ancestors were not as stupid as the idiots today." Vllk observed the ripples. "The Dark ones are trying to break it, but it will hold. It must. And we must stop them."

"Is there a Hellmouth here?" Angel realised he'd never asked.

"In a sense." Vllk scratched his chin, then under his nose, thinking. "The Pit has similar properties to the Core. A holding place for the old ones who could not be destroyed by conventional means. Our golems were guardians, humans who defended our cause in life, and in their death, had their heart's blood spilled on a scroll. This scroll rests on a construct's tongue. It's how they're animated."

Angel looked at the golems in a new light, disturbed. "That's creepy. Why does it always have to be about blood?"

"But of course it is. Blood is powerful. You, a vampire of all creatures, should know." Vllk directed contempt at Angel.

"Hey. No arguments, here." Wesley cut the air with his extended hand. "More thinking, and solving."

"There's too much thinking," Angel muttered, sour. "Wouldn't mind more action."

Wentz was examining each of the cupboards in a vain hope for more food. "It's obvious, then. We need to get the dark ones back into the Pit."

"How?" Vllk snapped.

Angel raised a hand. "We put little pieces of candy down leading all the way to this Pit, and let them follow."

Vllk glared at Angel. "Your humour is ill-timed. We should ..." He halted his sentence, like a driver slamming down brakes in a car. Faith, outside and a fair distance away, was happily pounding one of the dark ones up. They identified it by its wispy horns, and the strangely amorphous shaping of a body formed by thought.

They all came to the window and watched. "Aren't they supposed to be incorporeal?" Wesley rested arms on the sill, enjoying the sight.

The darkwalker recoiled back in pain, form folding in on itself as Faith made contact with her fists. Holes exploded in its body, before they knitted up again. Each injury inflicted took longer and longer to repair.

A rattling sonic scream caused Angel to wince and clamp palms shut on his ears.

"What?" The humans glanced at him, apparently unaffected. The screaming continued.

"It's ..." Vllk scrutinised Angel's reaction, the posture of the dark one. "It's calling for help. We can't hear it, he can." The Czech's eyes expanded, owlish in his gaunt, sunken face. "Vampire, your candy trail idea may have merit." His voice trembled in excitement. "It may actually work! Yes!" In the energy of a mad genius, Vllk sprang for the door.

Angel didn't understand. "What are you doing?"

The Czech turned back and chuckled, tributaries entrenched in his features. "Ready to save the world?"

Wesley gasped. "Of course. I see what you intend." He joined Vllk by the door. "I'm certainly up for it."

Their mood infected Angel, even though he didn't know the idea in their heads. He didn't remove his hands from his ears, though. "Count me in."

**The Inbetween, Faith POV**

"I can't do it." Faith rolled in mid air, frustrated, ready to break something, except she couldn't touch a damn thing in this place. "Aaarrrgh! Fuck!"

Buffy listened to her outburst, half-amused and half-exasperated. "Yeah, that'll help."

Faith switched her frustration onto Buffy. "Don't see you doing anything. And I've been here ages. I want my body back!"

"Oh, I know the feeling."

"Don't you fucking start." Faith knew exactly what Buffy was referring to. It seemed years ago since the mayor's switching spell. The sudden memory of the mayor induced mixed feelings. _Trust me to get an evil father-figure._ Moisture pricked her eyes. She blinked it away, focusing back on her internal problem.

_What's happening with my body at the moment?_

**_Your friends, allies, whatever, are holed up in some random house. And you're pacing around killing randoms. Demons, that is. Not random people._**

_Demons?_

**_Yup. All of them. It's quite impressive._**

_Really don't get why I can't see this, but you can._ Faith clawed at the mental barrier separating her from the Inner Slayer, and her body. Again, she felt the oncoming suggestion of pain, growing more intense the closer she dug.

**_Work with me, the Inner Slayer_**, a.k.a Balkir, said. **_That's what your pushed for time PTB conduit told you to do._**

_I'm trying!_ Faith blasted the thought.

**_Not really. You're throwing a tantrum and you're fighting me.  
><em>**

_Ugh!_

Buffy floated closer, arms folded, eyebrow twitching, lips poised. "Hey. Rage-y," she said.

"What?"

"There's something we're doing wrong."

"Ya think?"

Buffy ignored the sarcasm. She reached to touch her hair out of habit, frowning when it didn't produce the same tactile pressure she was used to. "We're trying too hard to solve it by ourselves, trying to connect with our Slayers. I mean, we're both Slayers, right? We both have this thing in us. The same thing, even."

Faith bit back on her instinctual retort, grudgingly listening. "Go on."

"And usually there's only one Slayer, so ..." Buffy shrugged. "We're kinda split up, I guess." She smiled primly. "So we need to work on the link between _us as well_. Not just Balkir or whatever its name is. See? I wasn't doing nothing. I was thinking, too."

Faith growled to herself, but didn't dismiss Buffy's words. She knew she wasn't smart, that Buffy had the education. Still sucked to be reminded of it, though.

_That's something. So you're split up between us?_

**_Yes and no. I've developed a voice based on your own personality. That's unique. But my power is in both of you, yeah._**

_Uh._

The blonde waited, seeming to know Faith was consulting. "Well?" she said.

"You have an idea." Faith stated it.

Buffy nodded. "Yes. I thought ... maybe ... we could touch." She said the last words in a rush, uncomfortable.

"Huh?"

"Not like that!" Buffy blurted, her form briefly retracting. Realising what she just said, she blushed furiously.

"Like what?" Faith jumped on the opportunity, but suppressed the other words, the ones that wouldn't help. Even though they were really, really tempting.

"I mean we should like touch because we can feel each other's Slayer connection thing better." She rolled her eyes. "Or what passes for touching in this place."

_Ah._ At the mention of it, Faith sought out the Connection, the thrum that linked her to Buffy, there if she concentrated. Always there.

"Could that be why?" Faith whispered, her brain now opening up.

"Why what?"

"Why we feel it. This thing. 'Cause it's the same thing in both of us?"

"Could be." Buffy embraced Faith's path of thought. "It kinda makes sense. In a weird, mystical, what the hell our lives are totally insane kind of way."

Faith had to laugh at that. Something strange flickered in Buffy's expression.

"So. Shall we?" Buffy magnanimously held out her hands. Casually, Faith took them.

"Worth a shot." They both closed their eyes, finding it awkward to look at each other. A butterfly-light pressure lingered where their palms touched, where it should have been firm and warm, instead of like ghosts. Out of vague curiosity, Faith squeezed. The pressure remained the same.

It unnerved her. She struggled into some kind of focus. Presently, she felt Buffy fishing, searching with her mind, and tentatively reached out as well. A shock of energy fizzed through them when they connected - really connected.

And, suddenly, everything made sense. Their powers merged, increased. Their minds delved into one another. Faith understood Buffy on a fundamental level - not her memories, her past, but just who she was. Shame coursed inside. _I can never be like that._

Buffy, however, had arrived at a very different conclusion. _This is freaking amazing. I don't even know what this is but it's amazing. You're pretty amazing, too._

_Uh._

_You heard me. Deny it and I'll punch you in the face._

Faith laughed again. _Oh, scary. Better be careful around you, Summers.  
><em>

_I see it!_ Buffy's triumph infused Faith. _This is it, this is what we're meant to do._

**_Yes ..._** the Inner Slayer said. They both heard it. The voice spoke in both of them, unified.

Faith saw it too. She reached out for her own mind, her own body previously denied to her - and tumbled into it with a disorientating blur of scenery. Welcome light bit at her eyes. Dust travelled up her nose canals. Heat seared her arms, sweat made her clothes cling.

And there were demons all around.


	21. Chapter 21

Buffy stumbled in the darkness. It took her a while to realise where she was. Her eyes adjusted fast. She was on the edge of the woods, staring at a wide street, with a cemetery on either side. Creatures roamed the roads and pavements, weaved through gravestones. There really was rather a lot of them. Too many, really. At least, with her normal power state.

Strength coursed through her veins, demonic energy begging to be used. So much power. Buffy's mind worked in union with the Inner Slayer. She no longer heard its thoughts, or felt its pressure on her brain. She was it. It was her. She was the Slayer.

She permitted herself a laugh. When she examined her arms, the laugh turned into a pang of dismay at the ugly black veins bumping her skin. Whatever this power amounted to, it was clear it did nothing for her looks. Out of abstract interest, she ran fingers along her face, detecting ridges, vein tracks. If she turned tail and sought out the others, how would they react to this? The last thing she remembered here was their horror as pain stabbed every inch of every atom inside, before she ended up in that weird floating place. With Faith. With new knowledge.

Were these veins a permanent thing? She hoped not. She stared down at Sunnydale, forming a vague plan. She had to - what - seal the Hellmouth, right? In this form, she sensed herself capable of it. It knew magic, ancient magic in dead languages. It contained strength, an obscene amount for such a small human frame. More than she ever believed possible. More than the last time, when her friends pumped her up to take on the Initiative and Adam.

Deep in thought, she almost didn't notice the vampires sneaking up on her. _The_se _will be a good test. _She spun on them, and cracked out a cheerful smile. "I'm impressed you got this far."

Witnessing her features, one vampire hesitated, doubtful. "Are you a human?"

"Sometimes," Buffy assured him. "Having a bit of an identity crisis at the moment. Know a good shrink?"

All three vampires encircled her. Buffy moved - instantly on one vampire and kicking at his instep, before dusting him in the same movement and vaulting backwards. She flung a stake at another, then chased after the last one when they decided it was a better idea to flee. Buffy caught up with embarrassing ease.

"It's not personal," she quipped, dusting them. It all took a matter of seconds. The power surged, eager for more. _I can do this._

She hadn't needed to think during the fight at all. Everything came as natural as breathing. As far as unnaturally bestowed demonic powers counted, anyway.

She resisted the urge to skip all the way into town.

**Faith P.O.V, California**

Getting out the car, Faith went to help Voirrey out the passenger seat before handing the keys back. Giles pulled up his car nearby, engine rattling, exhausts spilling out a trail of fumes. Both Watchers favoured their small, retro English cars. Faith wished she could have taken the bike, but the noise it rumbled out meant it not an option.

Tara and Willow came out as well. Xander and Anya exited Giles' vehicle, and they all grouped up, looking down upon Sunnydale.

"I wonder how far this has spread." Voirrey placed a hand over her banaged stomach. "We know it's likely claimed most of California. I'm unsure about the other states, or even the other Hellmouths."

Giles wrinkled his mouth and brow as he buttoned up his tweed jacket. "I believe the fringe states are having trouble, but it's spreading slowly. The other Hellmouths are all problems. Wherever there is one, it is most certain the country it's placed in is compromised. So that's about ... at least ten states or countries. Not counting how far the problem has travelled."

"The east end of Europe is doing significantly better. According to Vllk, the problem is contained in Prague due to their failsafe mechanism." Voirrey reached in her pocket for her cellphone, holding it as a comfort gesture.

"So. Big question." Xander raised an arm. "Since we're planning to be crazy and run into a demon infested town and attempt to seal the Hellmouth even though we haven't been able to seal it for the past two years but apparently that was because of misinformation and stuff ..." He took a breathing pause. "Say we somehow actually do it. What happens then?"

"What do you mean?" Willow chewed on a strand of her hair.

"Like with the world. They can't repress this incident like everyone in Sunnydale does 24/7."

"They can't?" Giles and Voirrey both looked amused.

"They could?"

Anya let out a laugh, throwing her head back. "This is something I know. There's a lot of demons who help with the repressing. There'll be a cleanup crew and before you know it, humanity has already forgotten. Then they'll make a movie out of it."

"Movie," Xander said, suspicious.

"Movie." Giles smiled. "You'll be amazed at how the subconscious manifests itself."

"Movie," Xander repeated. "Movies. All the movies. They're secretly real?"

"Oh, I wouldn't go as far as that," Giles said, sympathising with Xander's clear brain freeze on something he'd never even considered. Faith herself felt a little disconcerted about the idea. Did that mean Godzilla actually happened? The fifty foot woman? Fucking Robbie the Robot?

"Um," Tara said, drawing attention away from the topic.

"What?" Faith saw Tara was fixated on something in the distance. She walked to her position and looked as well.

"Oh," Faith said. _Oh_ about summed it up. There were several entrances into Sunnydale, and one of them, directly south-west of their position, had corpses. Demon corpses. Lots of them. "That might be Buffy's doing."

"I guess we know where she is now." Tara bit her lip.

"Kinda expected. She headed towards the demons." Faith looked at their motley group. None of them were capable of enduring a fight. They had a total of two sun bombs left, and Faith planned on taking both of them. But this close to the danger, and so easily detected, Faith couldn't afford to leave them alone for even a second. They needed to stick together. If the vamps found them at the other side of the woods, the vamps would find them anywhere. But at the same time, if they did stay together, it'd likely attract larger groups of attackers. Faith hated the dilemma. Both had the potential to end nasty.

"Should we go in? I get the feeling this is nothing but a death trap." Xander squared himself, already knowing the answer.

"Yes. We need to clear the way for Faith. The only way to do that is to round up as many vampires as possible and bomb them, or distract the others."

"No. I take the bombs. Y'all stay in your cars. Drive if you need. Keep as safe as possible. Don't go too far."

"Faith ..." Concern and fear came into Voirrey's face. "I can't let you go in alone. You need some sort of backup."

"There's too many. I can't protect you from that many." Faith shook her head stubbornly. "Be too slow with you lot behind. Can't stealth in."

"We are capable of shielding ourselves," Willow said, wounded. "We could help."

"You're exhausted." To demonstrate her point, Faith gave Willow a light shove. The redhead stumbled backwards, and took a moment straightening herself. "Your magic ain't gonna last. You been channelling it non-stop, right?"

Willow reluctantly conceded the point. Faith stiffened when Voirrey grabbed her in a hug, but relaxed into the embrace fast. She liked the Watcher's smell. She liked how Voirrey always looked out for her, constantly made sure she tracked the right path. That love alone made it easy.

If only her real mother had done that. "Don't worry, V. You trained me well." Faith knew the dangers. The Slayer life was short, and hard, full of violence. Most never made it past a few months - she'd made it to two years. And what a life.

Voirrey kissed her on the forehead. "Hopefully you paid attention then, dear."

The others took Voirrey's cue as an excuse to group hug. Faith clenched her jaw, unwilling to admit how moved she was, how close she came to shedding tears. No matter how hard she tried adjusting to her friends and Watcher's easy affection, it still took her by surprise, she still found it hard at moments to deal with. She was once a girl no one loved, with personal demons, and problems with trust. No longer so much of an issue. She still had them, but these people insisted upon trampling over her insecurities.

Giles handed over the sun bombs. They rested in her palms, light and cool. She placed them in her coat pockets, quickly felt in her jeans for the uncharged pendant, and gave it to Voirrey. "Saved my life. Don't need it no more for this."

"I'll recharge it."

Faith briskly walked away, not wanting to get involved in any more conversation, teary goodbyes, or persuasion. She was going in and following Buffy's trail. The blonde's commotion would draw everything, so all Faith needed to do was stick to shadows, stealth her way through the corrupted town. She needed to reserve all strength by not picking unecessary fights. She still hadn't fully recovered from the whaling earlier on.

She glanced back once, seeing all her friends huddled there, attempted a reassuring smile, then broke into a silent run.

Through the main streets, she sensed the demons all around, but fast moving away, attracted by Buffy's noise. Dust piles irregularly littered Faith's way across. Her guts knotted. Every situation she'd ever been in came with the thrill of danger. It never came with the weight of certainty, the notion she may not make it out alive.

Did all Slayers know when their time approached? Faith wanted nothing more than to turn tail and leg it out, away from this overwhelming evil. Her self-preservation screamed at her to do so But she pressed on, always examining her sun bombs, and tracking the grisly trail of dust and corpses. Some wore leather spiked jackets, agents of the biker gang back in Weytown.

_**A Slayer doesn't know when their time approaches. Seriously, so paranoid.**_

_Gotta be realistic. Pretty insane for doing this._

_**True. But Buffy could pave the way. It's your minotaur friend you got to watch out for.**_

_Saying I should protect her? _

_**Saying you do what you must.**_

Faith ducked into an alleyway, zooming down, away from the plaguewalkers she'd detected. The minotaur guy would be here for sure, as well as all his flunkies. Once again, she found herself glad of coming here alone. Easier to move. Easier to live.

She slipped from one alley into the next, every now and then holding her breath. She released that breath when green light flared from some location ahead, in between stacks of buildings, not too far from the remains of Sunnydale High. The cause of that had to be Buffy. Faith edged towards the ruins, discreet, resisting the impulse to track down the demons around her or flee for better ground. She kept treading, all the while wondering how she needed to deal with the demons and Buffy all in one. She didn't want to fight Buffy, for sure. The blonde would kill first, ask questions later in her current state. Faith had already come near death a few too many times for her liking.

Faith reached for one of the sun bombs. In clear view of Sunnydale High, Buffy struggled. Her unsubtle approach ended up hitting a wall in the form of a mass exodus of vampires and demons. Without much thought put into it, Faith pulled out the safety pin, flinging the device straight into the gathering. She closed her eyes and slunk against brick. The explosion of UV light created an cacophony of screams, either from incineration, or scorched pupils from those unfortunate enough not to shut their eyes. She quickly moved after the light dimmed. Buffy was no longer in view, and out of the demons packed in the area, at least twenty of them had charred to a crisp. Others rubbed at their eyes, moaning. She admired her handiwork for a moment, before heading off, leaving the suburban street road and its white picket fenced houses, stepping between cars abandoned on the sidewalks as she went for the back route to Sunnydale High.

She didn't get very far. Something blurred on the edge of her vision, registered too late on her senses. It flattened her front-first against a damp brick wall, one arm twisted behind by a steely grip of bone and muscle.

"What are you doing here alone?" The breathing tickling her ear came hot and fast.

Despite the uncomfortable position, Faith scrunched her brow in cautious surprise, her tone conveying a note of hope. "B?"

"That's me. Answer the question. Where are the others?"

Faith wrenched herself free, turning to face the blonde – and fought the urge to punch her in the face. "What the fuck?"

Buffy, taking a light step back, arms tensed for combat, scowled. "What?"

Faith's mind raced in confusion from the sight of the Slayer before her. Buffy was talking. It sounded like her. But it didn't look like Buffy. But she was talking. But the face. She looked no different from after the transformation – from the monster that attacked her and her friends.

When Buffy took one step forward, Faith lashed out in reflex with both arms. Buffy blocked the attack, incredulous, her veiny face more distorted, black eyes narrowed. "It's me! Stop this! What is wrong with you?"

"Sorry if I don't believe you, princess. Seen what you done to me?" Faith pointed at her injuries, hand shaking, torn between desires. That was, the desire to hit or hug Buffy at the same time.

Buffy's mouth hung open in disbelief. She froze mid-step. Faith could see the blonde's mind working, processing the damage. "I did that?" She covered her lips, seeing Faith's answering expression. "Oh my God. I don't know. I don't remember. I wasn't ..."

"I know." Faith felt heavy, weary, all the fight taken out of her. "I know."

The blonde watched Faith with a kind of anguish in her ruined features. She began to reach with one hand, stopped, looked at the tendons popping up, forming mini craters on the back. She clenched it into a fist, withdrew. She started to say something, also stopped on that, before mumbling: "Sorry."

There was nothing else she could say. Faith rested one hand on her tattooed shoulder, thumb tapping a rhythm.

"What happened?" Buffy said, hesitant, as if unsure if she really wanted to hear. "I didn't … ? Tell me I didn't hurt anyone else."

"No deaths," Faith answered, understanding that was what Buffy wanted to know. "But you hurt us. A lot. V. Xander. And then vamps came. And we … didn't know what to do with you." Faith didn't want to let slip of the fact they'd actually discussed terminating Buffy on the spot. The memory made her writhe with guilt inside.

Buffy got the gist of it. "Oh." She looked smaller, somehow. "It was that bad?"

Faith nodded. "I didn't leave you. Couldn't," she added. "The vamps would have killed you."

Awkward silence. When it became apparent Buffy wasn't planning on responding, Faith broached the silence with a change of topic.

"In answer to your question. I'm here 'cause wanted to make sure you didn't suicide. Was planning to do it at a distance, though."

"Well. Thanks. I guess."

"Welcome."

More stony silence ensued. More vampires trickled into range now, but they didn't search for the missing Slayers. Faith jerked a thumb in the direction of the mass pile of ashes.

"What's up with that? You battering it down, front door style?"

"Sort of. Make a commotion, get them all coming, and then run off and take another route into the school. I was getting to the running part. Before the explode-y."

"Right."

"You were very useful."

They stared at each other, trying to read intent. Faith had much less indicators than Buffy did. Part of her still wanted to react to the demonic appearance of the blonde – having only been fighting her down less than a day before, suffering asphyxiation by those tainted hands. She swallowed. With the world potentially crumbling to dust around them, the last thing either of them needed was butting heads with one another, especially if they were both now on the straight and narrow.

"We're stronger together. If you don't jump the crazy train."

"Yes," Buffy said. "That's true. But this is different." She held up her palm. "Notice this?"

"Yup."

"I thought I noticed you noticing."

"Not exactly subtle shading, B."

"Something happened. That spell Willow cast … I went away from this body. Stuff happened. And when I came back, I was like this. Stronger. Capable. It also gave me an idea of what to do." She pursed her lips. "It kinda feels like when I was against Adam."

"Huh?"

"Story for another time." Buffy smiled. It looked both sad and sinister on her stained features. "Point is … this is something I have to do alone."

"No." Faith's voice came flat, refusing the statement. "I'm ready for this. Slayer, in case you've forgotten." She didn't understand. Anger flared up inside, along with something else. Fear?

Buffy shook her head, grimacing. "Don't fight me on this. This is your world. These are your people. They need you. What's in there is dangerous. Really dangerous. So let me do this alone."

"Exactly! This is my world. Not yours. You're not supposed to be here." The words hurt Faith more than she realised, even though she was delivering them. Buffy wasn't supposed to be here. Buffy wasn't ever supposed to be here, since the original one in Sunnydale had died. This version of the deceased Slayer had only a temporary place in their world, until she found her way home. _I can't like you. You're just a ghost._

"I am the Slayer." Such a simple response; but it weighed volumes.

"So am I. Case you hadn't noticed."

"You're not the one needed in this Prophecy."

Incensed, she grabbed Buffy by the top of her jacket. "Who says? You can't stop me on this. Not unless you kill me."

"Shouldn't you be protecting your family, Faith?"

"They're fine. Fine!"

Buffy raised a palm, placed it tenderly against Faith's cheek, before leaning forward and placing a kiss on her lips. Faith, surprised, flinched and let go.

"Buffy?"

"I'm sorry." Buffy smiled, strangely sad, turning her head away. "I know what I look like. I ... I just wanted to do that. Is all."

Faith shook her head and backed away, pacing back and forth, running hands through her hair. All the while fighting down the frenzy of feelings whirling inside, like her heart was about to contract and burst all at once, like the butterflies they talked about in the stomach were beating feebly, dying out.

When she turned away for a few seconds, air whooshed. "Oh no you don't!" She spat, seeing Buffy dart around the corner, taking advantage of the distraction. Following after as hard as she could, she wiped sweat from her brow, barely keeping up.

_**Don't do this. **_

Faith slowed down a beat, slinking past a trio of demons.

_**It's not your fight.**_

_You as well? Fuck you all._

_**Let me put this blunt. You follow her, you die. **_

The words struck Faith like a hammer. She braked, hands thudding into a wall, jarring her muscles.

_What?_

_**You will die if you go in there. That was what she wanted to say. Pretty crap communicator in my opinion.**_

_But she can't die! This isn't even her world!_

The rage left her, draining out like released poison, revealing the emotions it armoured. Faith knew little of love. She didn't know if she even loved the blonde, their time had been so short together. But she didn't want to lose her, either. Was that love? Or just fear? Or selfishness?

The High School loomed so close. Evil radiated from it. She felt it in her bones. Her heart squeezed. Pain sank in, dull and internal. She stared at the school, strangely devoid of patrols outside. Why had she stopped? She needed to go in. Screw what Buffy wanted. Screw her stupid Inner Slayer. Screw everything.

No one told you that despair smothered like a blanket, stifling everything inside.


	22. Chapter 22

**-Hides from the readers.- THERE'S JUST A FEW MORE CHAPTERS TO GO AFTER THIS. Suggested Listening Music: watch?v=nxl03j6EiUw**

Shadows choked up the floor. Evil undulated from all around, making Buffy nauseous, sick to her stomach, afraid despite her newfound power. Voices whispered, beyond her hearing range, chittering like mice in the corners. Nothing good remained here. Just a darkness that would swallow up anything within grasp. The stench of decay permeated her nostrils. The innards of Sunnydale Highschool resembled a chamber of horrors. Blood smeared the walls, dried, drying, and fresh. Buffy clenched hands into fists, trying to calm her racing heart. She knew the cost of coming here.

She always knew, deep down. Some part of her wished she hadn't bullied Faith off. Just so she didn't have to be alone in this darkness.

_This place would kill her. I did the right thing. _Taking a few breaths, building her determination, she ventured deeper into the bowels of the ruined school. Wood was crumbling, decaying into nothing. Burnt metal piping twisted on the walls and floors, and Buffy trod carefully, in case part of the ground gave way below. The whole place resembled a death trap. The little bit of tape around the premise saying _NO ENTRY_ lay dolefully on the floor.

She sensed the Hellmouth, found the entrance to the library soon enough, though parts of the floor had fully sunken in, making going difficult. The closer she got, the more the worms in her stomach writhed. For all the power she possessed, would it be enough?

It had to be.

It needed to be. This was what everything led to. She needed to be like this. To be not human. _To sacrifice. _She shivered at the thought. How many people willingly walked to their deaths?

Taking a deep breath, flexing her fingers a few times, she stepped inside. There were no demons, not any she could see, but the maw of the Hellmouth yawned at her. It pulsed and flickered different shades of orange and red. A faint growling rumble resonated from its depths, followed by _clangs_. As if something was crawling - scraping a way out.

Buffy felt lost for a plan.

All she knew is that the Hellmouth needed to be sealed. Probably before the thing inside it came out. Or things. There could be hundred, thousands, millions of things. _A__ll the things!_ Surely the place would be swarming with them already? Shouldn't she be battling tooth and nail, just to make even a tiny bit of headway?

She bit her lip.

Why wasn't she, then?

Buffy got her answer. Beyond the glowing Hellmouth, something stirred. Rekhyt made his entrance from the top of the library stairs, from the hidden corners her eyes couldn't catch. The shadows that held him stretched and snapped back to their gloomy positions among the fallen shelves, the scattered tables and the torn books. As he walked, with his hooves sinking silently onto the floor, more shadows races up and coalesced around his form, increasing the size, the menacing aura that stank from his pores.

"So you made it." His eyes formed laser blurs in the air as he moved, smudging it orange. "I see you're all lost in the darkness, Lightwalker. Without backup of any kind as well? Interesting. I wonder what you actually hope to achieve."

"I'm not lost," Buffy replied, trying to stop her teeth chattering. "This would be a dumb place to get lost in, anyway. Like, seriously. I had to actually wade through an army of demons, jump over pitfalls and avoid sharp edges just to get here. And you know why that is? It's so I can kick your ass." Buffy's speech fell into silence. The minotaur didn't appear impressed.

"One wonders how someone of your intellect can even function. How you animals can even cling onto the world as it is. Luck? Desperation? Perhaps. Animals fight more viciously when they are cornered."

"You do realise you look like one of the milk cows we have on the farm, right? So_ you_ can talk."

"I shouldn't have let you escape," Rekhyt continued, as if he hadn't heard her. "I wanted to kill you straight away. But my brethren wanted a show. They wanted to lord over the fact they had the world's last hope in their grasp, and I indulged. At least my fellow kin will know better for next time. They will know to listen to me, and not underestimate you humans." Annoyance laced his tone as he spoke about his allies.

"Yeah, bad idea on your parts. Those guys should really know better than to ignore you." Spells, suggestions started forming in Buffy's head, battle plans, exit strategies.

"Yes. Trust me when I say I won't be making that mistake again." He clicked his tongue. "You will die, and all that will come after you, right down to the last human, screaming and bloody. Unless you cattle prove entertaining enough to spare from total extinction." He grinned maliciously.

"Seriously, again with the cattle ... you really got to look in the mirror." Buffy hesitated when something new assaulted her senses - warning her.

The library shadows came alive – one directly under Buffy's feet. She yelped and leapt backwards, crouching and rapidly accessing her new situation, all small talk forgotten. Shadows originally prone, attached to the things that cast them were now moving, shimmering in the red light. They didn't rise, though. They moved, but remained two dimensional, flitting closer to her. Buffy also spotted movement from the Hellmouth, seeing a rotten hand cling to the edge. Six withered corpses crawled out, skins tainted dark with infection.

Buffy swiped at a shadow which came too close. Her attack went uselessly through it. When one of them slashed at her, she felt the burn on the arm blocking it. Growling, she vaulted over one plaguewalker, ripping the carcass to shreds in a frenzy of stabs. No sooner had she finished this one, when more replaced it, more which spilled out of the Hellmouth, increasing in numbers all the time. Another shadow demon drew blood from her leg. She instinctively kicked out, contacting nothing. She gritted her teeth, alarmed. They could hurt her, but not the other way around.

Surrounded by phantoms, alone without help, her situation was desperate. An image of a pentagram flickered in front of her eyes, blue, with words to go with it. Buffy traced the pentagram in her mind's eye, weaved it in the air, spitting out the words she saw.

Bright blue light flooded her position like a waterfall. The flames licked around her skin, tinged purple from the Hellmouth's radiance. It made the shadows withdraw back, flinch in upon themselves when she approached.

She smirked, mouth twisting in satisfaction. Now neither could harm the other. Invigorated, she plunged into the fray of plaguewalkers, muscles rippling as she punched one back into the pit. More crawled out - the edges of the Hellmouth brimmed with them.

Rekhyt's words barely registered in the melee, too concerned she was with staying alive, making it through one monster to the next.

"How do you know that spell? Only those from pre-civilisation Europe know it." His form moved, gliding around the fight in mild fascination. "You are full of surprises. Then again, your skin colour has changed. Not the normal fleshy pink I saw you with last. What's going on?"

The flames protected her fully from the shadows, but not from the walkers. They kept pouring out of the Hellmouth. Their numbers appeared endless.

Buffy wondered a little on the timing, before realising Rekhyt had set this whole ambush for her. A quick glance down the Hellmouth told her the real danger, the thing that made the distant noises, was still far enough away to not be an immediate threat. Plaguewalkers, however, continued shuffling out towards her.

"Do you like them? They were once humans."

"You … monster." Buffy grunted, fighting against the swarm. There were so many. She cut them down, and more came. They couldn't disintegrate her anymore, but they still remained capable of inflicting injury. So many of them ...

Buffy's heart plummeted when one scored a lucky slash at her back, ripping apart the stitching. Something warm spread between her shoulder blades.

Why had she thought she could do this?

This was impossible.

The whole thing was impossible. Her limbs grew tired, leaden as she struggled against the horde.

"You humans are the monsters. This was our world – before those filthy human-hugging Lightwalkers betrayed us. _Our world_!" With a roar, Rekhyt also joined the melee.

Buffy thought he was incorporeal. She was proved wrong of that notion when he charged in, horns and head first. She barely had time to dodge the horns before he connected, the sharp tip scouring her side. She bit back a shout from the stinging pain, examining Rekhyt with wild eyes, the plaguewalkers, and the shadows nervously jittering in the background, unwilling to invade the purplish light bathing her.

_I'm glad Faith isn't here, _Buffy thought. _I'm so glad. She doesn't have to see this. She has to live. _With a grating yell, she swung furiously at the plaguewalkers, vaulting over and around to access where Rekhyt was. He turned to face her, bellowing, before charging at her again. This time his head caught her in the chest, sparing her from being impaled since his horns curled at the sides. She instantly gripped at the curves, and dragged him backwards with her. Right to the edge of Hellmouth. Rekhyt, realising what she was planning to do, struggled madly. But their strengths were matched. They teetered by the edge of the fiery pit, squirming.

Rekhyt tore one horn free with a furious exclamation, but the motion caused Buffy to jerk backwards hard, carrying them both over. Buffy let out a scream as she hurtled into the Hellmouth. She let go of Rekhyt who zipped past her, shrieking curses. Buffy fell past the Plaguewalkers, past other demonic entities, her fall becoming faster and faster, her cry echoing. She caught a glimpse of Rekhyt reverting back into shapeless matter, making himself invulnerable again, but unable to halt his descent. Buffy saw masses of plaguewalkers milling about aimlessly, or crawling out – of creatures scaling the lava encrusted walls, creatures of many limbs and teeth and hatred in their eyes. The Hellmouth looked like it went on forever.

_No! _Buffy tucked herself in, hot air raking her face, her clothes. Another spell sprang to mind. Clutching at it like a life-raft, she yelled out the words, forced the Slayer's magic out of her system, making it envelope her body. She realised a split second later in dismay what this magic did. In order for it to activate and obtain her full strength, something had to be lost.

Something important.

Her thoughts fragmented as wings formed under her skin, stretching and bursting free in a furious _twang, _searing through clothing. Blood flecked an arc from the release. Her hands elongated, grew claws. Her legs bent as she spun in the air, becoming more compacted, less human.

_I'm losing myself. My humanity. Everything ... _Her mind stuttered. The processing of her brain changed, lost the original branches of thought. It invaded, swamped her body, her personality.

_Who ... am I? _Her wings spread out. She glided the last part of the descent. Something awful faced her from the bottom – some kind of creature formed of shadow. A black hole of a monster from the depths of hell, bringing the darkness closer to the surface with each inching advance. An colossus that blocked the Hellmouth behind it, or perhaps was the Hellmouth itself. Demons swarmed to escape it as much as escape out into Sunnydale, as it consumed them if it came into contact.

_What ... am I? _Her feet landed on the colossus. The shadows emanating from it couldn't get a grip, not past the flickering aura protecting her all this time. The heat was unbearable. Hot air attacked her lungs.

_Who … _The darkness filled the whole space around her as the creature moved. The heat intensified, boiling her skin, cooking the flesh underneath. _What … _She bent double from the pain. There was nothing she could do, no spell to get out of this one, no strength to beat a thing formed of shadows and evil with its cloying touch, the fire that would surely kill her. She couldn't stop herself burning to death.

Was this it? _How …_

The bones in her face cracked, shifted. _**I am the Slayer!** _Primal instinct took over. The last shreds of humanity peeled away, dissipating like dust in the wind.

The Slayer writhed, forcing the shadows away. It bared newly formed fangs.

The Slayer knew what to do.

The Slayer always did, when all else failed.


	23. Chapter 23

**Thanks a lot for reading along the years, and for those who have stumbled across this recently. There will be a release of a bunch of short chapters up to the ending. Maybe some of you will like it, or hate it and imagine doing unpleasant things to me in my sleep WHICH COULD BE LIKELY PLEASE BE GENTLE but again, thank you so much for reading through! :) **

**FAITH POV, SUNNYDALE  
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Faith hid behind the walls, cursing her indecision, fighting the numb, crushing sensation inside that made her want to be sick. She should have gone with Buffy. No way was someone going in that place and coming back out alive. Just no way. The memory of the kiss lingered, and all the confused feelings that stirred with it. The image of Buffy running into the darkness was the thing that incensed and upset her most. It played like an photo burnt into the back of her eyelids; an ominous visual of something she may never see again. Was that what caused this awful, clenching sensation in her heart and stomach, like something squeezing the life out of her?

Conviction steeled her nerves. She needed to help. Damn Buffy and her self-righteous, sacrificing attitude, and her weird, not quite fully human problem. Damn the stupid Inner Slayer. Two people were better than none. Two Slayers against the forces of the night got the job done a hell of a lot faster. Now Buffy no longer stood opposite with her words, her unwavering persuasion, Faith became more certain, gearing herself up to do the things she must. The things her body was designed for.

Only, making it to the Hellmouth turned out to be more difficult than initially thought. Dilemmas cropped up the second she moved out of safety. Although Buffy had earlier cleared the way inside, other monsters had since congregated there, attracted by the original commotion, the screams and shrieks of the dying. Plaguewalkers, vampires, demons of all shapes and colours, all of them prowled snarling outside the ruins of Sunnydale High School. None entered, though, as if afraid of what lurked within. Faith exhaled irritation. Fighting or sneaking through that lot would be next to impossible. Even if she made it to the entrance by fighting, the likely chance was she'd be too exhausted to offer any concrete help. _Fuck._

She ran a tongue over her teeth, thinking. She stepped back under cover too late, though. Two of the demons had spotted her, and with a shout, more turned, looked her direction, and started streaming in their many numbers towards the Slayer.

"Argh! Really!" _Naturally_ things got more complicated the second she decided on doing something useful. Such was the life of a Slayer. Just once, _just once_ in her ridiculous demon killing preventing apocalypses lifestyle, she wanted things to work out in a nice and straightforward way, without any sort of extra problems appearing. Hello apocalypse, finished in time for dinner. Why couldn't it be like that?

_**Because that's life. **_The voice sounded sad, before slipping back into silence.

She sped out, away from the ruins, weaving through car cluttered narrow roads, down what looked like a nice suburban avenue, streetlights illuminating her way, trees casting twisted shadows across pavements. Sounds of pursuit hit her ears, and the places she ran to also had demonic occupants dotted around. Cold sweat broke out. More demons flooded the place than she had ever seen. There was no way she could make it out unscathed.

But she needed to try. Escape to the outskirts, find the others. Her stomach plummeted at the thought of everyone, crammed in a car, driving around in the night. With this amount of demons running around, they could just block all the exits if they caught wind of the vehicle. Damnit, Buffy was right. Faith's priorities were fucked up in this gig. Too fucked up. _My decision making is shot to hell. G and V always telling me to think ahead, not to rush into dumb sitches …_

Growling to herself, she sprinted past a purplish demon, jerking her stake across its midriff, hearing it fall with a satisfying thump. Buffy would take care of one end. Faith needed to sort out hers. Four demons spread out across the two roads ahead, with one path climbing upwards to the outskirts, the alternative veering right to the dodgier section of town, where shops like _The Magic Box_ existed. She couldn't stay still to fight them for long, not with a medley of demons chasing. Faith attempted to cut through, picking up more speed, inhaling and exhaling harder, a dull burning sensation beginning to flood through her legs. Running with steel caps added that extra little force which could mean the difference between freedom and entrapment.

The demons looked big, too big to knock over or kill with a puny stake, but perhaps easy enough to swerve around – she went straight for one as it lumbered, bringing huge arms up in a grasping motion, as if to hug and crush the bones in her body. She lunged into a forward roll just short of the grab, feeling the impact on her shoulder against the asphalt, but making it past the monster without incidence. She went straight from one roll into another, this time hurtling to the side to avoid the next attempt on her life, one of the demons bending down to pincer her between clawed fingers. She looked ridiculous, of course, tumbling and swerving madly like some drunk dancer to make it past, but it did the trick. Four very confused demons swiped the air behind her, making disgruntled noises, as she launched herself off by her toes, making the climb up the slope. She chanced a look back, letting out a hysterical and exhilarated laugh at the sheer number of creatures after her. It looked like all the demons of the world had gathered here, especially to kill her.

In fact, maybe she was doing a good thing, more than she realised, leading the demons away from the Hellmouth like some kind of pied piper. If they were after her, they weren't after Buffy, or her friends.

_**The others are nearby!**_

Faith sucked in breath, digging into her senses to try and find the car. Her hand delved into her pocket to locate the last sun bomb. With an evil smirk, she twirled, in the same movement lobbing the bomb with great force to the pack of demons choking up the junctions, the street. She turned and closed her eyes, sudden light flooding the unobstructed area. Her best opportunity to disable and kill the monsters below. The cries were music to her ears. The light took a moment to fade, and she continued jogging, grinning.

If Voirrey and the others didn't see that little beacon if they happened to be nearby, then they would have to be pretty blind.

Sure enough, less than a minute later, two familiar vehicles nosed into view.

Willow swung open the side door of Voirrey's as they drew up beside Faith. The redhead saw the pack of disorientated demons. "So uh, yeah, we kind of saw the light. A-are you getting in?"

"Yeah. Lets motor way out of here."

"What about Buffy?" Giles interceded, rolling down the window of his car, eyebrows crinkled in concerned puzzlement. Xander and Anya waved at her.

"She knows what she's doing."

Faith squidged in beside Willow and Tara, with a heavy heart. Giles smiled briefly at her, before powering up his engine. Voirrey glanced in the mirror, catching Faith's eye, before pressing the pedal. They roared away, out of Sunnydale, into the night.


	24. Chapter 24

**Prague**

Faith felt it happen. Even across the distance, over land and sea and country, she felt it. Buffy's light, blazing in a speck of incandescent glory, reaching unimaginable heights, then extinguishing. Just like that. The demon in front staggered backwards from a vicious uppercut, before collapsing, throat shredded.

Faith crouched, staring at her blackened and bloodied hands, numb.

_She's gone. She actually went and fucking did it. _The numbness crept in, weighing down, pressing on her heart. She slumped against the dusted wall of a house, shielding her eyes from the sun. Was Buffy really gone? Impossible. They couldn't die here, not in this world that wasn't theirs. But what else explained this sensation, this severing of their Connection?

What else explained this hollowness inside?

This was the state Angel found her in. He approached her with wary concern, still anxious about the corruption on her skin. Even although she had regained control of her own body, and proven to Angel she was Faith in mind – the others approached in wary caution. She couldn't blame them. She looked like a demon, moved like one.

"Faith?" Angel's voice cut through the emptiness. Faith knew she couldn't afford to lose it, not now. It was hard enough maintaining control like this, keeping all systems oiled and in order - but she wanted to act. React. Scream. Beat her fists against the earth. Find something to take it out on and let it escape until there was nothing left to feel.

Anything, really, other than this.

"What's wrong?" Angel came a little closer.

Faith gnawed the inside of her cheek until it bled. "S'nothing. Just dizzy. Okay now." She swallowed up the pain, which pumped through her body like poison, set her face tight.

What else could she do? They needed her. If she fell apart on them, in the very moment their lives depended on her, what kind of person would she be? What kind of Slayer would she be?

Her nails gouged the dust beneath, before she got up. She patted her jeans, tried to focus.

Angel rested a hand on her shoulder, meeting her eyes with a serious look. "Tell me you can do this. Because once they finish their mojo, there's gonna be a lot of disgruntled monsters heading our way."

"You know I can."

Angel nodded, the doubt fading. He caught something of her sadness, but not the reason. He squeezed her shoulder. "I know."

Faith smiled at Angel in an attempt to reassure him, but the smile didn't extend past her lips. She didn't understand why she felt like this. Buffy never was exactly a friend. But then again, neither was Faith.

Maybe she reacted this way because they managed to reconcile. At least a little. Maybe because she hoped they could be friends. Sister Slayers. People sharing the same hellish burden together, the weight of the world in their veins, who understood each other on a fundamental level.

And then what?

Gritting her teeth, Faith followed Angel. He kept glancing at her, sometimes in concern – occasionally some expression she couldn't identify.

"Not gonna hulk out. Quit the staring." Faith eyeballed him, daring him to keep flinging looks her way.

"Uh huh." They clambered up a wall ladder to a roof top, beginning the hopping journey above the demon infested streets once more. Near their destination of the Lyceum, where the pit lay exposed underneath the marble floors, Angel delivered another unreadable expression. Finally, he said:

"Faith. I'm worried you won't make it out of Vllk's trap. It snares demons. And you ..." He gestured at her to emphasise his meaning. "Pretty demon-y right now."

Faith examined her exposed, corrupted skin, and the black blotches on her hands like liver spots, strangely detached from her emotions. The demon coursed inside, every inch a part of her. It gave her everything she needed for the upcoming task, but no foreseeable get-out-of-jail card. No way to separate the power from herself.

Magic had a way of fucking things up – why should it be any different this time? "Price I gotta pay, right?"

Angel's face froze in heavy sadness as he turned away. He slid down an awning, landing somewhere out of sight from her current vantage point.

Faith wanted to shout after him something. Anything. But the prevailing thought that absorbed her consciousness right now was that if she died – would everything finally be over? Did she even want to die? She always thought her instinct to live dominated everything else. And yet she always put herself in situations that stated otherwise. People called her crazy, dangerous. In prison they feared her, even although she went out of her way to avoid conflict. Occasionally, the kingpins wanted to prove their status by getting her alone, sneaking in a shiv to a fight – but she always disarmed them, always found a way to dissolve the tension without harmful violence. She had the strength to do more. However, behind bars, it was no longer her right to abuse it.

She'd hurt enough people, already. She feared what lurked inside – the part of herself which took pleasure in pain and cruelty.

_Do I want to die?_

_Cowardice, _her mind whispered – or was it the Inner Slayer? She hadn't heard its voice since returning from limbo, or wherever she came from.

She stared at the precipice, where Angel waited for her below, on a brown-tiled, slanting roof, juxtaposed to the white awning. Below this, in the eastern side alley, was the entrance to the Lyceum. Plaguewalkers mooched through the streets, plazas, main traffic routes. Faith spied a minotaur with distinctive antlers crowning its head.

_They're sensitive to magic, _Vllk had said to her. _So we'll cast something useless but strong to attract them all here. To the Pit. Then that's where **you **come in. _He had looked at her, through those chipped, half-moon glasses, one yellowed canine displaying like some grizzled old wolf's. _Are you ready for this?_

_I am, _she thought. _I fucking well am._

Buffy had done her part. Dead or not, Faith needed to believe. This was the job they were made for. This was the reason why they walked another dimension in black skins, different powers. Now Faith needed to fix her end of things, her corner of the world.

Finding an inner calm, Faith dropped down, scooting towards the alleyway, Angel hard on her heels. Her pounding footsteps in the dust alerted everything within fifty yards, and they went streaming for her. Finding the Lyceum entrance, both Slayer and vampire pushed through, heading across the ancient passageway, the curving steps with their strange statues, all the way to the main library, noise echoing in the confined spaces.

If Buffy was dead, then Faith would continue the legacy.

That was her duty.


	25. Chapter 25

Voirrey inspected Sunnydale High's library. Clad in a blue jacket and skirt, with opaque tights and flat-heeled wedge shoes, she appeared nervous, as if expecting something to jump out at her at any moment. Faith stood by her side, staring at the broken floorboards where the Hellmouth once festered like an open wound. Faint traces of it lingered in the atmosphere, fading over time. Giles pattered around on the top floor, searching for something, making small sounds of annoyance as he worked his way over everything he could see.

Faith tapped her right booted foot on the floor. The dimension was finally closed off. Probably not for good – but for the first time in a long while. After feeling the obnoxious pressure of this place for so long, it was a novelty to walk these halls and not feel mortally afraid, to fight that urge to run away and never look back.

News of the outside world had trickled in. Whispers of the desolation through stretched explanations: oh, there was an earthquake in the Czech Republic, and tiny tremours all through the world in places which conveniently happened to have Hellmouths. Rogue teenage gangs, drug deals gone wrong, racial conflict in Los Angeles, mass stabbings and shootings – and these just the excuses for the western part of California.

The total number of dead across the world? The Council – what remained of it – had gathered up the statistics, which boiled down to something in the hundreds of thousands. Six digits, maybe more.

Faith didn't want to think about those numbers. How many of them died screaming to those monsters, those shades of the night, like she witnessed in the University. Another thing: she, and everyone else, found it unbelievable how no one seemed to realise the_ real _reasons behind everything. They accepted reasonable explanations, blanking out anything that did not compute with said logic.

People_ really_ were fucking stupid.

Voirrey left Faith for a moment to take a phone-call. She came back in less than a minute later, the nervousness gone. "It's finally sorted," she said. "They've fixed things up in Prague. Their media seems to be running a mass hypnotism story at the moment."

"Seriously? What the fuck?" Faith ignored Voirrey's glare of disapproval. "This what always happens every time? Finding dumb excuses?"

Voirrey gave a helpless shrug. "I would presume so. Otherwise humanity would have realised the threat a long time ago."

"So stupid," Faith muttered. She scratched at her tribal tattoo, worrying her lip. "How can you forget something like this?" There were more words, waiting under the surface, but she couldn't express them, didn't even know where to start, not without risking exposing the other things she didn't want to say.

Voirrey, however, understood. "Their deeds are many. Their sacrifice is high. The people of this world may forget them, but those in the thick of it, people like us – we don't." She wrapped an arm around Faith, giving her a quick peck just above the ear.

Faith froze, not trusting herself to say anything, react to anything. Her insides were raw, constantly on the edge of something. _I won't look her in the eye. _

"Guess so."

Voirrey squeezed her shoulder, gently. "Tara called again earlier. She and Willow want to meet you – since you haven't spoken to them in nearly a week."

"Yeah. I will," Faith said. She didn't specify when.

Giles, rummaging through the top half of the library, let out an "Ah-ha! Got the little blighter at last." He came back to them, holding something in his palm, and brandishing it in triumph.

"Found what?" Faith folded her arms, not particulary impressed by the object, It was small and withered, with a tiny sapphire gem in its centre. Voirrey detached from Faith, clearing her throat as if embarrassed by something.

"The last of the Blood Hexagon binding. It's a cornerstone. Potent in the wrong hands." Giles placed the object in his jacket pocket.

"Right. So. We go now?"

"Yes. But tell me, Faith. Do you … sense anything?" Giles pinched the side of his glasses, adjusting them.

Faith nodded. "Yeah. Traces. Nothing big, nothing dangerous."

Giles gave a small, calculating glance at Voirrey. "Reality is coming back into equilibrium right now. All the circumstances that were never meant to happen are slowly repairing themselves to their original destination. It'll take a while before we truly see the end results."

All that information passed over Faith. She didn't care. She only wanted to get out and go away. They left the school. Giles and Voirrey headed to his small, compact car. When they noticed Faith was trailing quite a ways behind, they hesitated.

"Just need some space. Be around in a bit," Faith said.

Voirrey's eyes fogged over. "Of course, dear. Whatever you need." She suspected where Faith intended to go. Giles scrunched his brow in bafflement, but made no comment.

Faith spun on her heels and stalked off. The car engine sputtered into life, gradually fading into the distance, into silence. She kept walking, fidgeting absently with her wrists as she did so. Her brain didn't want to think, her heart didn't want to feel, so she moved forwards with a subconscious, mechanical drive, going where her feet led her.

It didn't take long. Passing under the cemetery gates, boots pressing into gravel and grass, she located the grave. She knelt down before it, examined the familiar name, the epitaph, ran her fingers over the coarse, weather-beaten stone.

Still, she felt nothing other than a creeping coldness, freezing everything behind a protective dam. _Can't let it out. _Even that spasm of thought caused cracks in the armour. She suppressed it with a burst of self-fury and fear.

She stayed in front of that gravestone for a long time, trying to think of nothing in particular. Time relaxed her. Sunlight poked out from the few overcast clouds, white candy puffs in the sky. Crows perched on an nearby yew tree, quiet and sombre as the shadows the trunk and branches created. Memories, observations seeped in, testing the waters, waiting to see if they broke her down.

_Twice now_ _she gave everything. _

Faith's fingers prodded against Buffy's name. Along with the feelings she did not want to feel, there were stabs of anger. Those she didn't mind so much. Anger was another distraction.

"You idiot," she said to the stone. It sat there, unyielding. "You idiot," she repeated, almost like a mantra. "Idiot, idiot, idiot, idiot, _idiot!_" Her hand formed a fist. Her knuckles dug into the gravestone.

"Why did you have to go and do that?" Her breathing came faster. "Why did you have to come here and mess things up? Why did we become friends? How did we? Why am I bothered by someone I only knew for … what? A freaking fucking month?" Another breath, a sniffle. Her voice wavered. "W-w-why did you have to ... kiss and touch me like that. W-why did you ..."_ have to die? _

She brought her hands away from the stone, and to her face. "Fuck!" Her face was hot, and wet, and salty. Her nose was running, and she took big, gulping breaths, the sobs hurting her ribs as she tried to stop this madness, this pain. But she couldn't. The dam had broken. She hated herself so much for feeling and acting like this; it made no sense and yet it made perfect sense, and she just couldn't stop feeling, no matter how furiously she rubbed her nose and raked her face. She was fucking bawling like some five year old kid, but she just couldn't stop.

Why wouldn't it stop?


	26. Epilogue 1

Buffy floated in darkness. It swirled around her, submerging and caressing, cocooning her in a web of safety. She opened her eyes and saw nothing. She reached out with an invisible hand, feeling treacle all around.

_**Well done. **_

She vaguely recognised the voice. _Did I do it? Did the good guys win?_

The darkness waited a moment before replying. _**Yes. You have served your purpose, restored balance, bla-di-bla. It was quite a ride we had, wasn't it?**_

_I won't be hearing from you anymore, will I? _

_**Not back in your reality. Things are different there. You know that.**_

_Yeah. I do. _For some reason, Buffy felt sad, even although hearing the news that her return to home was imminent. Of course she wanted to be home, back with her mom, her friends, her life.

_**Hey, cheer up. You weren't supposed to be here anyway. The Prague Prophecy was a contingency plan if timelines went helter-skelter. They tend to pop up when this sort of thing happens.**_

_Nice to know they can just yank people out of different places to fix their mistakes. _Buffy scowled.

_**I know, right? But it had to be you. You're one of the very few Buffys that did survive the Master's ascension. They had a limited pool to select from, and you got the short straw.**_

_Oh, am I?_

Buffy's sarcasm was ignored by the Inner Slayer. _**I'm sorry for what you've been through. And I'm glad we got to work with each other. **_

_I go home now?_

_**Yes.**_

_What about … _Buffy struggled to say it. The Inner Slayer would know what she intended, though.

_**That's her world. Let it go.**_

_Can I say goodbye?_

_**Haven't you already? **_

Buffy reflected on that, then smiled wryly. _I guess I have already. _

_**Yes. Things have a way of repairing themselves, anyway. She'll be fine. All of them will be fine.**_

Buffy sighed. _It's not fair, is it?_

**_No, it's not._** The voice became duller, fainter. Buffy's surroundings increased in light, brightening like the shy emergence of the morning sun. **_Good luck, Buffy Summers. And goodbye._**

In a whoosh of kaleidoscope colours, a sharp intake of breath, the voice was gone from Buffy's mind. Forever.


	27. Epilogue 2

**FOUR MONTHS LATER: BUFFY POV.**

Settling back home wasn't easy. Buffy had materialised near where she originally left off – in the grassy stretches between gravestones of an all-too-familiar cemetery.

The first thing she did was hunt for her gravestone. She located the exact spot where it should have been – and saw an empty plot.

_I'm finally home, _she had thought.

Reintroducing herself to her mother and friends and boyfriend was a little more of an interesting experience. For example, she had forgotten how shy this Tara was – how little they really knew of each other. Their initial conversations on Buffy's return consisted of nothing but awkward.

Everyone of course welcomed her back with open arms. Her mother in particular had nearly crushed her bones in relief. Riley was glad to see her back, but somehow things between them became more awkward, too. Buffy hadn't thought that much of him on her stint away. Being face to face made it easier to remember what they were supposed to be; girlfriend and boyfriend, super soldier and Slayer and all that. They'd been through a lot together, after all – a whole year of trouble from the Initiative and his conflict in it with Professor Walsh. Somehow, though, sex with him no longer felt right. Something lacked in it. The passion had all but dissipated.

Annoyance prickled Buffy, as well as guilt for her changed attitude towards Riley. She felt out of place with her own world. _How dumb is that? _This was where she was supposed to be. Riley really was good for her. Why couldn't she just be satisfied with him?

To top it off, everyone believed she had only been missing for just over a week. Time apparently flowed differently in the other world.

She didn't tell anyone where she had really been. She wanted to, but each time she started, she stopped, the words stuck in her throat like an anchor. _Maybe some day. _And when Faith's name slipped from her lips, easy as if the name belonged there: "Does anyone know how Faith is doing?" - everyone just stared at her incredulously, like she had said the most stupidest thing ever.

Because of course. That was the missing link. Here was the Faith whom five months ago, Buffy couldn't have cared less if she rotted in prison for the rest of her miserable slutty life.

Not anymore.

Four months had passed. Summer had drifted into autumn, leaves stained the suburban streets. Slaying went on as normal. All that time, Buffy reflected. In between activities, meetings, social life and killing things – both Faiths played in her mind, how different and yet how similar both women acted. Four months was the amount of time needed before Buffy finally reached for her cellphone, one late evening, and dialled the number to Angel's firm.


	28. Epilogue 3

**Faith POV, Hyperion Hotel, Los Angeles**

"As far as I'm aware – the prison records of you have been completely expunged." Angel handed Faith a cup of black tea, which she accepted, even though she felt dubious about how it would taste. Angel's own mug was whisked out of the microwave, steaming hot with blood. Both of them lurked in the main kitchen, where a pile of dirty plates and cutlery clogged up the sink. The kitchen was huge, originally designed to cater for a full hotel worth of guests, with ovens side by side, long rows of preparation tables, and the more immediate tools dangling from hooks, such as corinders and stirrers. Faith lounged in a chair she'd dragged from the lobby, elbows resting on one of the preparation tables. Angel stood opposite on the other side.

"They were a bit confused when you just vanished out of their prison. The LAPD checked here as a potential hiding place for you."

Faith nodded, bemused by the recollection of events. When she came back into the world – she popped up in the same place she was left in from the other reality – near the Pit in Prague. Two days of utter confusion later, she managed to contact Angel with an international call, and the equally confused vampire had shipped her back into the states shortly after.

"I find it encouraging though - to know the Angel in the other world helped you, too." Angel grinned at her. He sipped at his mug, one hand tucked in his pocket.

"Find it weird. Not that I'm complaining or anything." Faith tried the tea. Not bad. She headed to the fridge, opening it to get the green-topped milk out. She also put a couple pinches of sugar in the mixture, testing the contrast in flavour. "Didn't know where else to go. So glad he did what he did."

"I find it hard to believe." Angel's eyes drilled into her, as if trying to read her mind, "How you still think you're bad, after all this. From what you've told me … you did everything by the book. You helped another world. You helped save it, even. And you're doing good here."

"Yeah," she confirmed. A small smirk danced on her lips at the memory. She had helped. Was that pride on Angel's face, as he looked at her? "But I'm still not fixed." She shook her head, trying to sort out her thoughts. How could she explain? She still remembered the rush of intoxicating pleasure when she tortured Wesley. She still remembered how much she had fucked everything up, the people she had killed, and being back in this world gave her a lot of time to consider."I'm still wrong inside."

"Your powers are wasted in prison," Angel said, softly.

Faith set her jaw in a stubborn line. "They're wasted on me." _I don't deserve anything good. _Yet good things happened to her. And people forced her nowadays to do good things. Or was she forced? Did she actually want to do them? It drove her near insane with second guessing everything all the time.

"Don't you do that to yourself. It's annoying." Angel scowled. "I'll be the judge of what's wasted. And I never thought you were a waste of space."

"Thanks," she replied, dry. She then spent a long time silent before answering. "Find it odd how much … faith," her mouth twisted at the word, "- you put in me. But long as you believe, then guess I gotta act on that. Right?"

"Good enough." Angel's handsome face crinkled in a smile, a kind one, with a flicker of something else. Respect? Concern? It hurt and confused Faith a little bit, seeing that someone could smile at her like that, like she was worth something.

Both Angels did that.

Maybe she was just a sucker for kindness. The mayor, after all, manipulated her on that. But even then, after all the take-over-the-world-scary-snake-demon stuff, even after the things he had encouraged her to do, the pain she had inflicted to Buffy and her friends, even nearly killing Angel - she still thought of the mayor as the closest thing she had to a father.

And Angel had forgiven her. Maybe even Buffy now, even though the blonde hadn't spoken to her at all in the four months back home.

To think they really could forgive her. How fucked up was that?

Faith put her hands in her lap after she put the mug of tea on the prep table, and sat back down in her chair.

"I'm fine with you here. Wesley is still slow to forgive you, but he accepts you working here for the team. Cordelia is Cordelia. And you've been a big help. Honestly. We could continue to do with a Slayer working for the firm."

The irony was not lost on Faith. "A Slayer, working for a vamp."

"Yeah, well. I'm a nice vamp. I do nice things. I gave you tea."

"True." Reminded of the tea, Faith gulped some more of it.

"And you get paid."

"Really?" Faith frowned. "How come I ain't seen any cash yet, then?"

"Because you never asked. It's in your bank account."

"I have a bank account?"

"Yes. Cordelia made one for you. What did you think this was, a slave hotel?"

Faith, lightened by the news of the bank account, stroked fingers against her palms. "Well. Wasn't gonna say."

"Huh! Slave hotel. You think that little of me, Slayer?"

At that moment, Wesley walked into the room. Upon spotting Faith, his eyes, previously bright with intent, glowered and became wary. His movement became slower as he circled away from Faith, reaching Angel on the other side of the table.

"Angel. Faith." He barely glanced at her. It shamed Faith down to the bone, seeing his mannerisms. She wouldn't be surprised if he never forgave her. And why should he ?

"The new employee has arrived."

"She accepted?" Angel raised his head in surprise.

"Yes. She didn't give much warning before turning up in L.A, though."

"New employee?" Faith clasped her hands together, glancing at both Wesley and Angel in enquiry.

Angel appeared a little guilty as he smiled at her. "Yeah. Buffy phoned me up to recommend it. She says: 'Hi', by the way. Wants to meet up with you at some point."

Faith raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" Inwardly, something fluttered. Hope? Happiness?

When she had found out Buffy lived, and had settled back on this world – Faith's initial reaction was relief. Sheer relief. But then, Buffy made no effort to contact her over the next few months. And it wasn't like Faith could just casually pick up the phone to say hi. She was a fugitive – and she couldn't be sure how much Buffy remembered of her experience in the other world. Or if Buffy wanted to remember.

"Lets go and meet her. She's in the lobby?" Angel finished off his mug and placed it on the draining board.

"Yes," Wesley answered, "Cordelia is keeping her entertained."

Cautious, Faith walked behind the two men, also feeling a tiny stab of irritation at Wesley's persistance in avoiding her. She understood why, of course she did – but still. She used her tongue to daub off the remainder of the black tea on her teeth. Down the corridor, across the hallway to the reception and lobby, she saw the new employee.

Her eyes went flat. "You're fucking kidding me."

Wesley noted her reaction in interest. "The Council wanted to assign a new Watcher to you if you were leaving prison for good. And since I am exiled … this woman was the recommendation placed forward."

"You're fucking kidding," Faith repeated. "I don't need that one." She retreated back to the doorway.

The woman headed to Angel. Cordelia, manning the reception desk, had a bored expression on her face, which transformed into a smirk when she witnessed Faith's reaction. The Watcher, dressed in formal black and white work clothes, hair knotted in a bun, held out her hand to Angel.

"Hello. You must be Angel. It's not often in my career I encounter a vampire like you."

Angel accepted the hand and shook. "Thanks. You know Wesley and Cordelia, I guess. This is Faith Lehane."

"Yes." The woman directed her brown eyes to Faith. They crinkled in inspection. "I'm Voirrey Saunders. And you look like you're about to explode, young lady."

Faith stalked away, muttering to herself.

"She'll get over it," Angel said.


	29. Epilogue 4

Buffy waved at Faith. The brunette, almost shy for once, gave a tentative smile back, but otherwise remained cool in demeanor. She wore denim jeans and a black tank top, with hands tucked into her pockets. Buffy wore similar casual clothing, but with a white vest top and brown heeled boots. Inwardly, she felt amused at their dark and light contrast. Over four months had passed since their interaction in the other world.

Four months went by so fast.

"How's it going in L.A?" Buffy asked. They sat in a local Sunnydale coffee shop, with sunlight filtering through the closed windows. A breeze ruffled the tree leaves outside.

"Good. Tough." Faith sipped at her iced coffee through a blue and white straw. Buffy, ever the sweet tooth, went for a strawberry milkshake, and was contemplating just how many calories she'd be downing if she finished the whole thing.

After deciding it didn't really matter, she slurped at the shake, making eye contact with Faith again. "And Voirrey?"

At this, Faith's eyes went flat. "S'okay."

Buffy grinned impishly. "Good."

"Still pissed off with you 'bout it."

"But she works well with you, yes?"

Faith gave a non-committal shrug. "Spose." Then her jaw clenched, as if debating something internally. Finally, she leant over, speaking over the murmur of the other customers, "She took me out shopping the other day. Said my style of clothing was 'atrocious', or some British shit like that. Who says that kinda stuff?"

Buffy threw back her head and laughed. Faith couldn't help but laugh back. Her hand sprawled on the table, towards Buffy, fingers curled.

"Guess things came out five by five in the end."

"Yeah," Buffy replied, her laughter subsiding. Both Slayers stared at each other for a long moment. Then, very slowly, Buffy edged her own hand until it rested on Faith's fist.

"I hope things work out better between us this time around."

Faith swallowed, her eyes fixed on Buffy's knuckles. Regaining eye contact with the blonde, she smiled, a beautiful warm one that made Buffy shiver. "Me too, B. Me too."

**Just one more chapter, after this! And THEN IT WILL ALL BE OVER. FOR REAL. Who knows if you guys can guess what will happen. :D**


	30. Epilogue Final

**Other World: Faith POV, Sunnydale. THE FINAL FINAL FINAL CHAPTER EVER. The break in the story was where it was originally going to end. Then someone told me they would do unpleasant and mean things to me. So I amended it somewhat. :P  
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Once again, Faith found herself at the cemetery. She'd been going less often now, only five times in the past two months, but sometimes she needed to stop and think, to breathe, and she now associated the gravestone as her thinking spot.

"You shouldn't do this to yourself," Willow had said, restraining her with a hug. "Therein lies the road to crazy."

"I'm five by five," Faith had assured her. "Feeling better. Just … need time out. S'all."

She really did feel fine, at least at that moment. Her friends – no – her family – were annoying as hell with their over-concern, but sometimes it made Faith realise just how much she was loved. Tara, Willow, Xan, Anya, Giles, Voirrey – all supported her when she needed it. All of them backed her up, helped keep her on the straight and narrow.

She found it hard to handle this realisation at times. It was that feeling, the okay, content feeling, which sent her to the stone, to crouch once again before Buffy's name.

"Hey, B," she said. "Not been in a while. But that's prob a good thing. Getting busy. Evil never likes to rest, yunno. Giles is thinking of enrolling Willow in some official witch coven thing – shes wicked good with magic now. Tara is ..." She sighed, thinking of Tara's scarred face, "Better. Refuses to have all the scars removed. Dunno why." Faith paused, gathering her thoughts, focusing her breathing.

"V was panicky 'bout me. Like, really losing it. Only found out why the other day. She told me she had a daughter. Lost her. Always thought it was weird how much attention V put on me, how out of her way she went to make sure I was a good Slayer. Hated it at first. But … shit. Never knew."

Faith's previous neutral mood retreated in place of a funny sensation stirring in her stomach again. She fought to control it. She never liked to talk so openly, not in front of anybody. But a dead person's gravestone – somehow, those personal laws became circumvented.

"I wish you could have lived." She pressed fingers against the name, stroking it. "Here. Sure, bet there's many other crazy Buffys out there. But my one? My Buffy? You and the other one who came here …?" The words stopped. She sighed. She felt sad, then. Not grief, not despair, just a creeping sadness at the knowledge she would never know Buffy. Not the one here, six feet under earth, or the one who came from afar, and sacrificed herself barely a month or so in.

The sheer weight of that sacrifice loomed on Faith's mind.

_**She was meant to live, **_the Inner Slayer said. **_That was always what was meant to happen. _**

Faith nodded, steeled herself. "Then let her live on."

Standing straight, she looked down at the grave one final time. "I'll remember her. We all will." With a shoulder stretch, she began to walk off and into the summer day.

She didn't get very far. A strange ball of energy formed in Faith's stomach, intensifying. The feeling came out of nowhere. She hadn't seen anyone else nearby, so she whirled around in confusion, searching. Couldn't be a vampire, too much daylight – definitely something supernatural – that was the energy she reacted to. Demon? Somehow that didn't feel right, either.

Muffled thumps came from ahead and beneath. Faith pinpointed exactly where in a second. The earth under Buffy's gravestone. More thumps came, irregular, scattered. Then a voice, faint, so faint, but scooped up by Faith's advanced hearing.

"Help!" The stress in the voice was evident. The thumps became frantic, then silent. Faith strained to hear anything else. She rested her ear against the earth, barely breathing as she listened. Something thrashed wildly within her chest, almost painful. A presence wavered inside Faith, tentative. A Connection.

That did it. Not considering the logic, the danger behind it, Faith dug her hands into the earth, tearing away at the grass and soil. Cemetery soil was spongy and crumbly, but it still took a lot of effort.

"Hang on! I can hear you! I'm getting you out!"

"Help!" This time, the voice consisted of a mix of hope and panic. "You can hear me?"

"That's what I just said! Digging you out!"

" … I don't know how I ended up here." The sobs beneath penetrated Faith's heart.

"Me either!" It had to be, it sounded just like her, maybe a little less mature, but Faith recognised that accent, that timbre of voice from anywhere.

Fifteen or so minutes later, guided by their shouting conversation from where the trapped occupant varied from panic to relief to panic again, as well as sarcastic, off the wall remarks – Faith's hands breached the soil, scraping wood. Dirt piles heaped up on either side of the makeshift pit she'd dug, not quite big enough to reveal the whole coffin, but enough for her to rip at the top half nail by nail, fingers becoming raw and bloody as she yanked it apart.

Inside the coffin emerged a bewildered, dirt-ridden Buffy, from where the soil had seeped in through the holes she had punched through in her desperation. Her knuckles were skinned, bleeding, but curled upward to display her palms as Faith reached down. She rose out of the soil like a dolphin breaking water, the particles tumbling around her.

Helping the blonde out was awkward, clumsy, but when they both clambered over the sides of the hole, and sank into a huddled, dirtied ball, Buffy rested her head on Faith's shoulder for a moment, dazed and disorientated. Then she coughed, glanced around, obviously confused, before settling eyes on Faith. Tear streaks made clean lines down her dirt-caked face.

"I … don't know who you are, but … thanks. For getting me out."

Faith stared at Buffy for a moment, jaw agape. "You don't know me?"

Buffy shook her head. "No. Sorry."

Faith raised hands to her mouth. It was impossible. It couldn't be.

Could it?

"I – I need … I want to go home." Buffy rubbed her eyes, hands shaking, the shock kicking in full time now. "I – I don't understand … what happened ..."

"Hey, hey. It's okay," Faith said, awkwardly, never really the best of people to comfort others. She tried patting the blonde on the back. Her mind worked double time, playing feverishly with the idea it presented her. _Is she really …?_

Buffy's eyes snapped open wide. "The Master! Oh God. I – I need to go -"

"The Master is dead. He's not your problem, anymore." _Yes! She is! She really is! _Triumph and delight coursed through Faith. She didn't care how or why – but somehow, miraculously – Buffy – the Buffy of this world - was no longer dead.

_**Told you things have a way of fixing themselves. **_The Inner Slayer sounded pretty smug.

Faith had heard the words many times in the past four months, but had never even contemplated this possibility. That a person who was not meant to die could come back.

Now the blonde squinted at Faith in wary suspicion. "You know about the Master?"

"Yeah. I'm a Slayer, like you. You can sense it, right?"

Buffy was silent a long moment, her expression slowly transitioning to suspicion, to blank shock to fear. "T-the Master. H-he killed me, didn't he?"

"Hey, don't think 'bout that right now. Dunno where your mom is. But I can take you to Giles. Shall I do that?"

Buffy shrugged, helplessly, her brain still processing, overloaded by the news. She didn't even seem to consider or wonder too much into how or why Faith knew about these things. She was lost, helpless, scared and uncomprehending.

Faith supported her around the waist, because the blonde couldn't walk upright without her limbs giving out on her, wobbling like jelly.

Together, they began the short journey to Giles' home.

If things couldn't be the same, maybe they could start over again.


End file.
